


Victory  Bonds

by copperbadge



Category: DCU
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Daily Planet, Gen, Nazis, PostWar, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 21:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1947, and Daily Planet front-pagers Clark Kent and "Louis" Lane are about to get the story of their careers, courtesy of the fledgling Justice League: the enigmatic Superman, the spy-turned-vigilante codenamed Bat, intelligence agent and newly minted Green Lantern Alan Scott, and Ambassador Diana, Princess of Themyscira.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in postwar America, where DC characters have been recast as soldiers, Rosies, Nazis, Holocaust survivors, and spies. There are mentions of PTSD, discussion of Nazi death camps, insignia, and ideology, references to the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and brief incidences of anti-Semitism, racism, and sexism. I've tried to faithfully portray the era without getting gratuitous about it.
> 
> Beta thanks to Anya, Spider, and Claire!

The bomb changed me.

That's a foolish thing to say, really. The bomb -- the bombs -- changed all of us. When they dropped that first bomb on Hiroshima, though...

I don't know when I started...changing. I know that at least one bullet bounced off me before then, and the men always used to say I moved fast, but I wasn't any different from the other soldiers, not really.

The bullet that should have killed me zipped through the air and I heard the whine of it; I felt something hit me and yelled _Get down!_ and pulled Jimmy down with me as we all dropped like rocks.

I remember lying there in the mud, the endless mud at the foot of Monte Cassino, while the bullets zipped around us, and thinking this was a hell of a hill to die on. I wasn't even supposed to be there. I was with the Army news, just there to report. Jimmy sure wasn't supposed to be there either, since he was only seventeen, but he'd lied about his age and they put him in the paper with me as a photographer. He did a little spying on the side.

We'd been swept up in the assault on Monte Cassino, that hellish five month battle on the Gustav line, and there weren't any men to spare for reporting; we all had to fight. As I lay there, face in the mud, I saw the bullet that had hit me sitting flattened on the ground. I thought maybe it'd hit a buckle on my kit or something, but really I knew even then there was something strange.

The day they bombed Hiroshima, I was in Berlin, helping the cleanup effort after we flattened the Nazis. It was August and brutally hot, and at eight-fifteen in the morning in Hiroshima it was one-fifteen in the morning in Berlin.

I heard the screams. I heard them, as plain as I could hear the man in the bunk next to me snoring. I heard the screams, and for hours I heard them. For _hours_.

Eventually, when it became evident I was suffering what they thought was battle fatigue, I was shipped back to England, to a convalescent hospital. It was there I figured it all out -- maybe not all of it, but pretty well enough. I knew I wasn't crazy; I hadn't cracked in three years at war, and whatever anyone thought, I trusted my senses. I could see through walls, hear things miles away, I could lift more than any man should, my skin couldn't be pierced or burned...

And I could _fly._

The night I found that out, I took off from London and I was in Smallville in time for Sunday dinner. Boys were coming home slowly, trickling back in, but when I showed up on the doorstep Ma and Pa nearly fell over.

"You should have sent a telegram," Ma said, when they recovered. "We'd have come and picked you up at the station."

"Ma," I said, "I didn't come by train."

It all came out that night. I knew I was adopted, I knew I'd been a foundling, but they didn't tell me where they'd found me until then. They didn't tell me until then how they always knew this day might come, the day I found out I was different.

I went back to the hospital in England, and I asked for my medical discharge and got it, saying I'd make my own way home. The same night I was back in Smallville, the war behind me forever...except for how war never really gets behind you.

I looked around at the other fellows who'd come back, and you could see the hollow look in their eyes. You could see what had happened in the way some of them were missing parts, whether or not those parts were physical. Some families gave their boys to the war and never got them back, but even the ones who came back left _something_ in the conflict.

I couldn't stay in Smallville. I was offered a job at the local weekly paper, but I couldn't spend my life in that town full of old men and hollow-eyed soldiers. I could have stayed on the farm and helped Pa work it, but I didn't want to take the work from men who needed it. There were plenty who did, and Pa could afford to pay. I had a little put by, especially in war bonds, and I thought maybe I could lose myself in Metropolis. At least there, I wouldn't know the names of the soldiers I saw.

So I bought a cheap suit and a fedora hat like I'd seen newspaper men wearing in the movies, and I went to the city.

***

My editor at the army paper knew Perry White at the Daily Planet, and when I called him up to ask him if he'd write me a letter of reference, he said he'd do one better. He got me an interview with Mr. White, which was generous of him. And terrifying.

"So you're Kent," White said, when I presented myself at his office. "Strapping kid, arent'cha?"

"I guess so, sir," I said, standing because I hadn't been invited to sit.

"Kellor says you're an ace reporter."

"He's very kind, Mr. White."

"For Christ's sake, sit down, and call me Perry. You think you can hack it at the Planet?"

I sat. "Well, sir, I hacked it all right in combat. Fewer folks shooting at me around Metropolis, I guess."

He stared at me, cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and then started to laugh.

"Fair enough, Kent. Fine. Get your stories in and don't screw up and if you haven't pissed me off by the end of the month you're hired. LANE!"

"YEAH PERRY!" a woman's voice yelled back, and I stood and turned, and that was the first time I saw Lois Lane.

I learned later she'd been a real Rosie during the war, working the assembly lines, driving rivets into airplanes and helping assemble engines. For two years she lived elbows-deep in grease and bolts, and then quit and came to Metropolis when the line boss wouldn't stop pestering her. Men being thin on the ground, she found a job reporting under the name Louis Lane, and she was so good that when the war ended she held onto it despite the men coming home to elbow the women back into the kitchen. Nobody's elbowed Lois anywhere in her life, I imagine, and certainly not into a kitchen.

She was beautiful. She kept her hair short as she'd kept it on the line, but it was thick and black around her face. She wore a suit, tailored, and she looked like Marlene Dietrich in it, with her deep red lipstick and her dark brown pinstripe. She had a notebook in one hand, a press card in her breast pocket, and blue eyes a man could die for.

"Clark Kent. He's our new cub. Beat some sense into him but try not to break him, wouldja?" Perry said.

"No promises," she said. She swept me once. "Army man. Huh. Where ya from?"

"Smallville, Kansas," I said, and Perry snorted with laughter again. "By way of Italy and Berlin."

"Smallville. My god, Perry."

"Just show him the ropes. Man's been in combat, he should survive you."

"Fine. I'll find him a desk. Come along, Smallville, and if you're a good boy I'll show you where we keep the coffee."

***

It was 1946, and Metropolis was a busy town; soldiers coming home, postwar industry booming, refugees still arriving from overseas. There was no shortage of stories to cover, with or without "Louis" Lane. The hours were long, the pay was moderate, and I had never been happier. I felt like I was making a difference, and it was nice to be reporting on something other than casualty lists. The future looked bright for everyone at the Planet. Circulation was up, and soon I was competing with Lois to see who could get the better story or write the better column.

I'd been at the Daily Planet for three months, and in hopeless, unrequited love with Lois for two of those, when Jimmy showed up on my doorstep. I got him a job -- "Kent, if you drag any more old war buddies in here, you're fired and they can have your job" -- and we added him to our merry band of degenerate snoops.

At night I was learning to use my new abilities, the birthright of a planet I didn't know the name of and a race I had never seen. I got pretty good, but there didn't seem to be much use for it aside from digging around occasionally as a journalist. I didn't like to do that; for one thing, it wasn't ethical, and it gave me an edge over Lois that seemed pretty unfair.

The first time I figured out there was a use for it aside from entertaining myself, we'd been out celebrating. Lois had cracked a story on organized crime trying to get a foothold in postwar Metropolis, and she was the woman -- well, Louis was the man -- of the hour.

"I'll buy you a drink, Smallville," she told me. "Consolation prize for coming in second."

"Oh, I don't think I ought to -- "

"Come on, you can write home to your folks tomorrow night. Live a little. I never saw a newspaper man so reluctant to get a free drink," she said, shaking her head, and I decided one little drink couldn't hurt. Besides, she was wearing the red trousers, and I loved the red trousers.

I was walking home from the lounge after our celebratory drink -- alone, because as always I'd offered to walk her home and as always she'd told me to get stuffed -- when I came across a man being held up for his wallet. The story's not that interesting, but the upshot is the mugger shot me instead of him, and it zipped right off me, and before he knew what was happening I had him pinned and begging for his life.

His victim took off running.

I frog-marched the guy to the nearest police station and we went through the whole rigmarole, the usual paperwork I was familiar with from crime reporting, and afterward the Sergeant on duty stepped outside with me to have a cigarette (I don't smoke, but it never hurts to have a few to offer a fellow; men talk more when they're smoking).

"Not decent of the fella to run off after you saved his life," he remarked.

"Well, I did save it, I guess that's what counts," I said awkwardly.

"You sure did. Most cops won't admit it -- more'll admit it here than some other places, I suppose -- but it's a good feeling, setting things right. Makes a man feel...clean," he said, eyes rising to the nighttime skyline. "Someone's got to look after the city."

I had a bullet hole in my new suit, but I didn't have one in my skin, and the man who put it there was going away for robbery.

I was pretty thoughtful for a few days after that. I told Ma and Pa about it next time I visited -- why write when you can fly? -- and Pa just said, "It's a job for a strong man, defending a city like that."

And I said I thought he was right.

***

Lois was the one who named me Superman.

I chose a blue suit for my uniform because the police wore blue; Ma gave me the red sheet of cloth I'd been wrapped in as a baby, and I took that for a cape. It had some strange properties, some alien quality that made it as invincible as I was. It was helpful. And it looked pretty dramatic, too.

But Lois gave me my name. She wrote a column about the "Superman" that had been seen over Metropolis the day an airliner nearly crashed, helping to set it down safely outside the city. Perry, bless him, ran it despite thinking she'd finally gone off the deep end. He called her a crazy broad, and I don't know what her revenge for that was, but he only did it once. Two days later Jimmy caught a photo of me -- Superman-me -- and Louis Lane's crazy story was vindicated.

It wasn't easy, trying to be a reporter and a hero. The number of times I had to beg off a dinner or apologize for being late to work...well, it's a good thing reporters don't keep normal hours, or I'd have been fired many times over. As it was, Perry sometimes put me on garbage stories to punish me for disappearing on him. Some of them turned out to be gems in disguise, but the little scoreboard Jimmy kept showed Lois was clearly winning in the "probably going to win a Pulitzer" competition.

Bruce Wayne was one of my punishments.

Wayne didn't come back to the States until 1947. Rumor was that he'd spent the whole war in London, seducing the wives of men off in combat. He was both loved and hated: the civilian who hadn't gone to fight, the patriot who made some of our best planes and guns, the profiteer who made millions doing it. He'd had some factories going in England, but after the bombings they said he went to Japan. God knew what he did there. Plundered the country, some speculated. Some said he went there to help, but precious few people wanted to help Japan back then.

Some said he got out because the Russians were after him. 1947 was the year the Cold War began, though not many of us called it that at the time.

All I knew was that I got assigned to write the puff piece about his return to the States, passing through Metropolis on his way to Gotham, and I was annoyed. Lois got to report on the industrial strikes that were heating up over unionization, and I had to go say hello to some rich boy and ask him how he liked being home.

And then Lois showed up and stomped that story too. Sometimes I just wanted to --

Well, grab her and kiss her, usually.

The night Wayne came back to America, he threw a party at the Metropolis Grand, the ritziest place in the city. I had to rent a tux (they had to let the shoulders out). I was supposed to get five minutes with Wayne, but then Lois showed up.

I think it was the first time I ever saw her in a dress. It was the same deep blue as her eyes, and everyone in the room sat up and took notice when she strolled in.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her, as she offered the doorman a sawbuck in lieu of an invitation.

"I have a few questions for Mr. Wayne," she said innocently.

"Lois, Perry gave me this story."

"Wayne Enterprises is one of the companies battling unionization," she replied. "Besides, you couldn't pull off this dress."

"I don't know," a dark-haired man said from behind us, and we both turned. "It's his color. Bruce Wayne," he added, offering her his hand. "Guest of honor."

"Lois Lane," she replied. "Gatecrasher."

He smiled, a charming, intimate smile. "Miss Lane, I figure a woman only wears a dress like that to a place like this for one of two reasons."

"Do tell," she said, putting a hand on her hip. I prepared to watch her take him down, though I knew even she wouldn't dare.

"She's either looking for a rich man, or a pretty one. Can I offer you both?"

Oh, I hated him.

"You forgot the third reason," she said, reaching into her purse. He tensed for a brief second, and I wondered why, but then it was gone as she held out her press card. "I'm with the Daily Planet. I'd like a few minutes of your time."

"I think I can give you that, but I'd like something in return," he said.

"And what's that?"

"The first dance," he replied, holding out his hand, and with impeccable timing, the band began to play.

I watched Lois waltz away with Bruce Wayne, and with my story.

You had to give her points for style.

But Bruce Wayne had always had a reputation as a womanizer, so she got her five minutes and not a whole lot more. By the time I got another chance at him, Lois had already left to file her story, and Wayne had gone through three other women. Don't know what he was looking for -- or rather I didn't, then -- but it was obvious he wasn't finding it.

"So you're with the Planet too, huh?" he asked, when I managed to corner him for a moment. "I have to say, Mr...?"

"Kent, Clark Kent," I said.

"Mr. Kent, you're not as attractive as your competition."

"No sir, Mr. Wayne."

"So why should I answer your questions when I've already answered hers?" he asked, as a waiter brought him another drink.

"It's good publicity for your return?"

"You telling or asking?" he said with a smile, and then leaned forward. "Tell you what, I'll make you a deal like I made Lane."

"I'm afraid I don't dance."

He chuckled. "Let's trade information. I'll give you all the quotes you want, and you give me the dirt on this Superman that Metropolis supposedly boasts."

"What makes you think I know anything about him?"

"You're a reporter, aren't you? I hear he's a hot commodity in this town. Come on, tell me some stories, Kent, I've been in Japan for a year. They say he can fly?"

"Sure. And breathes ice. Rumors he can shoot rays from his eyes."

"And he's faster than a speeding bullet -- wasn't that a subhead?"

"One of Lane's," I answered. Lois has a more bombastic style than I do. "I don't think anyone's tested it."

"How do people know how to find him?"

"They don't. He finds them."

"How?"

"If I could tell you that, Mr. Wayne, I'd be telling the world," I said with a dry smile. "Why did you leave Japan?"

"Time to come back and take the reins at home. This union business proves it; I'll be reversing the Wayne International stance on unions as soon as I have a handle on the situation. What's his real name?"

"Nobody knows that either. He might not have one. So it's not true that threats were made against your life by the KGB?"

"If it is, they didn't bother telling me, but then I imagine they wouldn't. Does he only show up when there's trouble? Or does he fly around patrolling at night?"

"He seems to patrol. You see him in the daytime, sometimes. Could be he's just going about his business, though. What are your plans for Wayne International now that you're back in the states? Going to keep up the military contracts?"

"Well, there's a lot of money in them," he says thoughtfully. "But I'm not that fond of guns. I was thinking manufacturing's going to be the next big thing. Automobiles and radios and such. I sort of like the idea of being a Captain of Industry. Seems like fun." He leaned forward. "And here's the big question, Kent: why do you think he picked Metropolis?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Why not Metropolis?"

"Because Metropolis is a shining city, with a reasonably honest police force and a thriving economy," he replied. "You go four hours north and there's Gotham, full of crooked cops, gangsters, thugs, and poverty. If this so-called hero wants to fix people up, why'd he come here?"

"You know, Mr. Wayne, I think that's the first time anyone's asked that question," I said.

"Second. Miss Lane wonders too. Though I don't think she's as personally invested in the question as I am," he added. "After all, Gotham's my home."

"Then perhaps if you're worried about it, you're planning to do something about it?" I prompted, and he smiled.

"We'll see. So you don't know why Superman is here?"

I shrugged. "Maybe Metropolis is _his_ home."

"Could be. Thank you, Mr. Kent, you've been enlightening. Anything else I can answer before we break this party up?"

I sighed. "How are you liking being home?"

He grinned. "Oh, you're writing _that_ article. Well, I'm happy to be back on American soil, ready to roll up my sleeves and help my own country enter a new era of prosperity and peace now that we've won the war. How's that?"

"I'll make sure it sounds sincere when I write the piece," I told him. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Wayne."

"My pleasure. If you're ever in Gotham, look me up; just ask for the Wayne Building."

"I didn't know there was a Wayne Building in Gotham."

"There isn't, yet. By the time you get up there, we'll have the foundation poured. See you around, Kent."

Looking back, I could see what he was doing -- gathering intel for his own personal project, finding out how the Superman of Metropolis did things.

Probably doesn't reflect all that well on either of us that he turned around and did pretty much the exact opposite.

***

There were strange goings-on all up and down the coast that summer. The least of it was the unsettling but vague story circulating about a masked vigilante who was haunting Gotham's alleys and preying on the monsters that lurked in its shadows.

We left Gotham to itself; we had our own problems in Metropolis. I found myself, as Superman, stopping a lot of robberies, but not the usual bank-and-pawnshop variety. People were breaking into laboratories and factories, stealing machines -- technological things. Strange things happened at the docks. Bodies washed up, rats died en masse, the water in some parts turned rusty red.

Immigrants were going missing.

Lois and I both had a crack at the mysteries in Metropolis, because our instincts were telling us there was _something_ , but the most we ever heard was quiet chatter about certain travel plans -- not what they were or who was involved. There were rumors that the crime ring Lois had cracked was just a front for something more sinister, but no matter how hard she leaned on her sources, she couldn't find out what.

And then, one very early morning, someone painted a swastika on the big brass double-doors of the Daily Planet building.

It was a stealthy move; it hadn't been there when the newsies picked up their papers, but it was there by the time the morning cleaning staff arrived. When I got there, one of them was fruitlessly trying to wash it off with soapy water. It was cordoned off, and the newspaper staff were going around the side to get in. Lois was standing at the cordon, glaring at the doors.

"What do you think it means?" I asked, staring as well, anger boiling up inside me.

"Aside from the obvious?" Lois said.

"The obvious being that we've got Nazis in Metropolis? Or a prankster with a sick sense of humor?"

"The obvious being that we're getting somewhere," she said. "We're getting close."

"Well, I'm getting squarely nowhere, so that means...?" I prompted, turning to her.

"I had a meet with a smuggler last night," she said.

"Lois!"

"Oh, can it, Smallville, I was looking after myself while you were still shucking corn in Iowa."

"Kansas," I muttered.

"There's a difference?" she asked.

"Did anyone go with you?"

"He wanted to meet alone. I took precautions," she added, opening her purse to show me the contents. It was a mess of pencils and notebooks, mainly, with a makeup compact and a handkerchief -- and a loaded revolver.

"I need to check on my source," she said. "And maybe see if I can get someone from the State Department to talk to me."

"You know anyone up there?"

"No, but I'm persistent. Why, do you have a string you can pull, soldier boy?" she asked.

"One or two. Let me follow that angle."

"You're welcome to it. The Old Boys are a pain," she replied. "Going to walk me around to the side entrance, big strong bodyguard man?"

"Oh -- ah," I stammered, and I probably blushed.

"Yeah, I thought so. See you inside," she said, and strolled off.

There's a niche in the alley across from the Planet, a risky place to change but not as risky as some. Thirty seconds after Clark Kent left the police cordon around the Planet entrance, Superman landed lightly inside it, next to the woman who was scrubbing fiercely at the paint.

"May I, ma'am?" I asked, and she stepped back, wide-eyed.

Burning paint off brass isn't easy without melting the metal underneath it, but I'd had some practice controlling my heat-vision by then. I got right up close, nose almost touching it, and scorched it clean, ashes fluttering away in the wind. It left behind a few greasy marks, but the soap and water would take care of those.

"Thank you," she said, in a thick French accent.

"My pleasure," I replied.

"The pig who did this, you'll catch him, won't you?"

"I'm doing my best," I answered.

"Could've used you during the war," she added, wringing out her rag and wiping away the last traces of the swastika.

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner."

"No matter." She flapped a hand. "We did all right without you. 'Get here sooner', eh? So you're an immigrant, like me?"

"This is my home."

"Oh yes -- mine too," she said with a smile. 

"You take care, ma'am," I replied, and took off again.

Upstairs, back in my usual clothes, I put in a call to an officer who'd been with us at Monte Cassino, and who now worked for the Central Intelligence Group, the descendant of the OSS that had run American intelligence during the war.

"Kansas Kent! Don't tell me you're in town," he said, over the crackling interstate phone line. "I heard you were muckraking in Metropolis."

"You heard right, Major Scott," I answered.

"Just Mr. Scott now, but I think you can call me Alan," he replied. "Glad you're there -- I sent Jimmy your way, did he find you?"

"He sure did. Gave him a job with the paper."

"You're a pal. So what can I do for you? Calling about state secrets? We don't give them out like candy, you know."

"Someone painted a swastika on the doors of the Daily Planet this morning."

There was a long pause on the other end.

"Any idea why?" he finally asked.

"My colleague Lane thinks it's because we're putting our nose in where it doesn't belong. Problem is, I don't think either of us knows what exactly it is that we're into. Rumors, a couple of odd disappearances, some word about someone traveling somewhere...not much to go on. Before it was just local trouble, but Nazis in Metropolis..."

"Yeah," Alan replied thoughtfully. "That's a little more global."

"It's not proof -- could just be some kind of prank -- "

"Kent, do you know anyone depraved enough to use a swastika as a prank?"

"There were sympathizers in Metropolis early in the war. Bet there still are."

"There were sympathizers everywhere, back then. 'What this country needs is a Hitler', remember?"

"Makes my skin crawl, Major."

"Alan," he corrected gently. "I don't think this is a joke, Clark. What do you know about ratlines?"

"Ratlines?"

"It's high-level intelligence stuff, but not classified. It's a name for an escape route from Germany for Nazi brass. Mostly we think they're in South America now. A lot of them got out right after Berlin fell, some even before, but some have been hiding out until things settled down. I think Nuremburg's making 'em nervous. There's been an uptick in recent months, and there's at least one ratline that runs right through Metropolis."

I paused. "You couldn't have mentioned this to me?"

"Didn't cross my mind. We have our best men on it; no offense, Clark, you were a hell of a soldier, but you're a journalist, not a spy."

"No offense, Alan, but that's a load of bunk."

Alan sighed. "This business is ugly. I didn't want to get you involved. I hoped we'd wrap it up before it got this public."

"Well, a swastika on the front door of the city's widest-circulating paper is pretty public."

"And your buddy Lane, he thinks it's a warning?"

"Who knows? Why would they draw attention to themselves like that? A threatening letter would have been easier."

"Some of these boys, Clark, they still think the Nazis are going to win the war. Could be one of them got enthusiastic. Listen, I don't have the time to brief you fully on this right now, or to get your brief in return. I'm going to send one of our operatives your way. He's been trying to pin down their entry point in Gotham."

"See, now, Nazis in Gotham somehow surprises me less."

"It's not a nice place. But he's a good man, and while he can't give you everything, what he can give you, he'll give straight. He'll expect your full cooperation."

"How much of this can I print?"

"Depends," he said drily. "How far underground do you want to push these guys?"

"Nothing yet, huh?"

"Nothing yet. Hey, I got a question for you, do me a favor?"

"Sure, if I can."

"This Superman you got in Metropolis," he said.

I kept my voice even. "Sure, what about him?"

"You know anyone -- say, a friend of a friend who could put him in touch with me?"

"For the CIG?"

"Sort of."

"I think he works alone," I said. No government needed to get their hands on the kind of power I had. Not after the bombs.

"Well, if you happen to speak to him, shoot him my name anyway. I have some information that he might find interesting."

"Sure, if I can. Can't promise much. So how do I contact your agent?"

"You don't. He'll contact you. Tell me, Clark, did you ever hear of codename: Bat?"

***

Of course I'd heard of Bat. After the war, there were stories that came out about certain spies, like the double agent codenamed Garbo who'd run rings around the Nazis, but Bat had been legendary even during the war. He moved at night, he fought like a hellion, and a couple of guys had told me once that he'd managed to get through a Fascist line to bring them food and supplies when they were pinned down behind it. He was the most infamous spy of the entire OSS, and nobody but his agency handler even knew his name. He was a codebreaker, a border-crosser, and he wore a mask to protect his identity. And now, apparently, he was back in the States, still chasing down the remnants of the Reich.

I went over all this in my mind as I stood on the roof of the Planet, per instructions. They'd come in a plain envelope, left on my desk the same day I'd called Alan, and the scrap of paper inside simply said: _Roof. 11pm. Tomorrow. Destroy this._ It was signed with a stylized bat insignia. 

I didn't move when I heard a rustle behind me, didn't speak until he did first: "So you're Kent the reporter."

"That's me," I said, turning. "And you must be Bat."

He was about my height, broad-shouldered, muscled like a boxer. His clothing was strange -- fitted black trousers with tight calf-boots and some kind of long-sleeved black shirt. Dark grey panels were stitched into his clothing, and he wore black leather gloves. The famous cowl, also leather, covered all but his mouth and chin, and had two sharp metal blades set into the crown like bat's ears. He had guns -- no, some kind of grappling mechanism -- holstered on his belt, along with a row of slim black pouches.

"Alan Scott sent me to find out what you know," he said.

"Funny, I thought he sent you to tell me what _you_ know," I replied.

He cocked a smile. "You first, paperboy."

"I think I can help with that," said a voice, and both of us turned, startled.

"What the hell is this?" Bat asked, looking at me.

"Language, gentlemen, there's a lady present," Lois said, emerging from the shadows. "Oh, calm down, I come under a flag of truce."

"Lois," I sighed. "You followed me."

"Reporter, Clark. You're not subtle," she said. She turned to Bat, who eyed her warily. "Lois Lane. Reporter for the Planet. I have something you need."

"The lady reporter with the manly name."

"I don't often get called a lady," she said. "Thanks for including me, Clark, by the way."

"Just repaying the favor, Lois," I replied.

"You two want to have this lovers' quarrel later?" Bat asked. "What do you know, Lane?"

"I spoke to a smuggler two nights ago," she said, settling against a railing along the edge of the roof. "He was a bootlegger back in the twenties."

"What does he smuggle now?" Bat asked.

"People. He gets people into Metropolis."

"From where?"

"Wherever they come from."

"Nice business, bilking the helpless," I said.

"Those who can pay, do. Those who can't, just owe him a favor. Life's a little lean right now, but between the paying customers and the...other imports, he gets by. And in a couple of years, when they get on their feet, he'll have a lot of pull in certain neighborhoods."

"My intel says the ratline brings people in through Gotham," Bat said.

"Ratline?" Lois asked delicately.

"An underground transit route for Nazis who got away from the Allies. They come in at our port, take a trip to Metropolis, and leave again from there with papers. We think they're stopping in Florida, then heading to South America. Argentina's borders are wide open to Nazis."

"Peron," I muttered.

"Well, anyway, he says there's a new game in town," Lois continued. "I don't know if they're bringing people in or sending them out. He's only encountered them once, and once was enough, he said. They're fast, mobile, and ruthless. They speak German to each other. And yesterday, after he spoke to me, someone tried to murder him."

"Murder him?" I exclaimed.

"He's fine. He's safe with one of those people who owes him a favor. Told you we were getting close," she said to me, before turning back to Bat. "Help us find out what's going on, and for an exclusive we'll help you get your hands on them."

"They drive them in private cars from Gotham to Metropolis," Bat said. "Haven't been able to get my hands on more than one, and the driver shot himself before I could ask him any questions. His cargo is a little late for Nuremberg, but they'll find something to charge him with."

"He's in prison in Gotham?" I asked.

Bat laughed. "Yeah, right. The Gotham police are the reason the city needs men like me. You give a crook to them and even a Nazi could bribe his way out inside of an hour. He's in a military prison under heavy guard. He knows nothing, anyway. People took him from place to place, didn't tell him anything about it." He glanced at Lois. "If there is a gang of smugglers getting people out of Metropolis, that means some of them are _staying_ in Metropolis. Ever wonder what else they're getting up to? In Gotham they're funding themselves through the drug trade, but there's more money coming in than going out, that's for sure. So what happens to all of it?"

I thought about the strange thefts, the machine parts, the electronics. "They're planning something. A bomb, maybe."

"All of this is interesting, but useless if we can't find them," Lois said. "Can you give us anything that'll actually help?"

"My job was to tell you all I can, and find out all you knew. If you're so hot to find them, come to Gotham and see how far you get. I hear you have friends there."

Lois raised an eyebrow. "Someone's been talking out of school."

"What friends?" I asked her.

"Nobody, Clark," she replied, mock-innocent. "Well, thanks for that miniscule scoop, Bat. See you boys around, some of us have work to do."

As she went back inside, closing the door to the stairwell behind her, Bat turned to leave. He faded into the shadows almost effortlessly, the grey and black blending into the darkness.

"Hey," I said, because it had been chewing at me all through the conversation. I heard him stop, and then he reappeared, only half-visible in the gloom. "You're him, aren't you? The man in the shadows in Gotham. They call him the Batman."

"That's an urban legend. It's been around for years."

"But it's you now, isn't it? The vigilante trying to clean up Gotham one punk at a time?"

"There's a reason I took the codename I did," he allowed.

"So you work for the CIG and hunt on your own time?"

"The problem with working one punk at a time is that there are always more punks. The big guys are the ones with the power, and the CIG has interests in them. But the punks have to be dealt with regardless. Servant of two masters," he said, shrugging. "It's all Gotham to me."

"Nobody knows much about you."

"Keep it that way."

"You don't want your side of the story told?"

"That would defeat the purpose, don't you think?" he asked, jumping lightly up to where the statue of Atlas holding the world stood atop the highest point of the Planet building.

"What's the point?"

"Fear. Fear and violence are the only things some people understand."

"That's a hell of a way to live."

"Easy to believe when you live in Metropolis. Stay out of it, Kent."

"It's Gotham's business. I'm only saying."

"Don't say," he told me, and leapt.

It was like watching a swimmer in a dive; he arrowed gracefully through the air, twisting, and by the time I reached the ledge he was nowhere in sight.

It only occurred to me later, lying in bed and trying to sort out what had happened, that I could have looked under his cowl, seen who he was. It never even crossed my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While women have had a long and distinguished presence in journalism, they still faced significant hurdles and overt sexism in the early 20th century. I looked up a history of women in journalism while researching the fic and found that many women who would be considered Lois Lane's contemporaries, while skilled and capable journalists in their own right, had the advantage of being married to publishers or writers, which eased their entry into the profession. Her assumption of a male pen name may not have been necessary, but as a single woman with no connections in a major metropolis, it would have been one of the few ways to get past the gender barrier to becoming an investigative journalist.
> 
>  **[Codename: Garbo](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_Pujol_Garcia)** , a man so determined to help the Allies that he became a spy and _then_ got hired by them.
> 
> There's a website about ratlines that seems to walk the line between "interesting history" and "nutty conspiracy theories" pretty well **[here.](http://nazisinsouthamerica.blogspot.com/)** Juan Peron, president of Argentina in 1946, was sympathetic to the Nazi regime and welcomed Nazis seeking asylum in Argentina.
> 
> The Central Intelligence Group which Alan works for and which supervises the handling of Bat is the bridge organization between the wartime counterintelligence "Office of Strategic Services" and what we know today as the CIA. Alan and Bruce, as active agents of the CIG, therefore stood to be important players in the spy games of the Cold War.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think it's time to stop competing," Lois said the next morning, while we were spitballing ideas for how to follow Bat's -- the Batman's -- slim leads. "I think we should work together on this."

I clutched my heart, giving her a shocked look. She rolled her eyes.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"Well, they already know Louis Lane is after them," she said. "But Louis doesn't exist."

"You're too modest!"

"Shut up, Smallville. It's an open secret, but you'd be surprised how many people don't know I'm a woman. If Louis writes an article about these ratlines, it'll make it tight for them. But they'll come looking for him, not me, not at first."

"Playing bait's a little dangerous."

"Could be worse. If I write the story and get out of town for a few days, you can see who comes crawling out of the woodwork."

"Where would you go?"

She gave me a sly look. "Bruce Wayne invited me to visit Gotham."

I groaned.

"Come on, Bruce is a sweetheart. A total idiot, God knows how he runs Wayne International, but he means well. And it'll give me a chance to take Bat up on his advice to look around."

I didn't think Bruce Wayne had been especially dimwitted when we spoke, but maybe Lois had high standards, or Wayne got tongue-tied around her like I had in our first few weeks. What I did know was that every other month, Bruce Wayne was involved in some scandal or other. He was quite a man for the ladies, and his parties were the stuff of society-column legend. I was beginning to think maybe he _had_ spent the whole time in Japan partying with geishas, like the nastier rumors said.

"I don't like it," I said.

"It's fine. I'll take Betty."

"Who's Betty?"

Lois flashed her revolver. I groaned.

"Clark, if I write this for Perry, he'll run it, and if he runs it, I'm going to Gotham. So soldier along and keep an eye on the place while I'm gone, or don't. Either way, it's happening."

"Fine," I said. "But if you're taking off, let me take a few hours today. I need to see to some other stuff."

"I have a piece to write," she replied, waving me off. "Shoo, Smallville, go pound some pavement."

Half an hour later, Superman touched down at CIG headquarters in Washington, DC. It was an unassuming office building, but there was a government seal on the wall, and guards inside the doors.

Still, it's amazing what kind of clearance Superman gets. I just told the guards that I was there to see Alan Scott, and after a hurried conference on a nearby telephone, one of them escorted me up to the fourth floor, a claustrophobic room full of clattering typewriters and CIG agents cutting things out of newspapers. Scott had an office at one end, and he wasn't alone.

"Well," he said, when the guard showed me in, closing the door behind me. "This is fortunate. I take it you got my message."

"A friend passed word along," I replied, as a woman seated in front of Scott's desk rose to her feet.

"Then you know who I am," Alan said. "This is Princess Diana of Themyscira. She's a diplomatic ambassador to the US," he said. "Diana, this is Superman."

"My pleasure," she said, offering her hand. She had a trace of a Greek accent. "I've heard a lot about you."

She was taller than me by an inch or two, with dark hair done up in crisp, tidy victory curls. She wore a Women's Airforce Service Pilot's duty uniform: blue trousers and a white shirt, with a tie that was non-regulation red, and a leather flight jacket with a Senior Airman's bars on the shoulder. I'd never met a WASP before, but we'd seen them on base a few times.

"You flew for the States," I said, shaking her hand. I could see glints of silver at her wrists.

"Themyscira didn't exactly have its own air force," she said. "And the uniform gets at least an ounce of respect around here."

"Diana's finding diplomacy hard going," Alan said. "But it's good you two have met. She and I are cooking something up that we'd like you to get in on, if you're interested."

"I don't even know you," I pointed out. Which wasn't entirely true, but I was wary.

"And yet you came," he said, smiling. "All we'd need is Bat here, and our little gang would be complete."

"I want to talk to you about him, actually -- "

"Later. I -- we -- have questions for you."

"I didn't come here to be interrogated."

"Just some questions," he said, settling back. "Take a seat. Diana, do you have some time?"

"A few minutes," she said, dropping into her chair. I took the other one, carefully sweeping my cape out of the way. You don't spend a lot of time sitting, as a superhero.

"This is for us only, not for the CIG or the government," Alan said. "Rumor has it you're an alien."

"I don't know," I replied. "I was found in a field as a baby. It's a fair assumption though, given what I was found with."

"You don't know where you came from?" Diana asked.

"No."

"And these powers you have -- flight, heat vision, strength...?"

"Also I'm bulletproof," I added. "Didn't happen until about two years ago. The end of the war."

"So you grew up on this planet, thinking you were...?"

"An ordinary human, yes."

"Interesting. You live in Metropolis."

"Yes..."

"You seem to have lofty ideals," Diana said with a smile. "Protecting your city. Serving the people. Don't think this..." she pointed to my uniform, "doesn't look a little like a police uniform."

"I try," I drawled. "City seemed to need someone like me. So a police officer once told me."

"We're thinking bigger," Alan replied, settling his hands on the desk. His right hand inched towards the fingers of his left; there was a green signet ring with a strange symbol on his index finger. "And I think I may be able to answer some questions for you, if you come aboard."

"Aboard what?"

Alan made a fist with his left hand, and seemed to -- change. One second he was an ordinary man in a mid-range business suit, and the next minute he was wearing...something else. Black, with green bands around his arms and the same symbols as the ring on his chest. A domino mask appeared on his face. His eyes, normally blue, glowed green.

I glanced at Diana. She had taken her jacket off, and was rolling up the sleeves of her shirt to show long metal cuffs on her wrists.

"When the bombs went -- ever since then -- strange things have happened," Alan said. "We drew a lot of attention."

"Attention?"

Alan pointed up. "From the rest of the universe."

I'd have asked if he was kidding, but hell, I'd come to Earth in a meteor shower, and he had a magic ring.

"I was approached, after the war, by two organizations," he said. "The CIG, and the Green Lantern Corps. I said yes to both. The Corps is an intergalactic league of beings armed with this..." he pointed to the ring, "which gives them enormous powers."

He aimed the ring at a lamp on his desk. It turned green, and seemed to levitate. Calmly, he set it back down.

"Our job is galactic defense. I serve this sector, but more specifically Earth; I've been charged with protecting us against a lot of interested parties who could prey on this planet." He looked me in the eye. "I have friends in the Corps who've been around, and they told me about someone called the son of Krypton. The last survivor of a race that was utterly destroyed; as an infant he was sent out into the galaxy, and word has it he ended up somewhere around...here."

"Krypton," I repeated, rolling the word around in my mouth, trying it out. "You think I'm him."

"I think if you wanted, there would be more you could find out. I can connect you to people who know more than I do."

"What's the catch?"

"Cynical, isn't he?" Alan asked Diana, amused. "Diana and I are forming a league of people like...well, like us. You and me, and Diana, who incidentally could probably take you in a fight."

I looked at her, skeptical. She picked up a stone paperweight from Alan's desk, glancing at him. He nodded, and she crushed it one-handed. She took a fragment, placed it between her cuffs, and ground them together, turning the stone to powder. The cuffs weren't even scratched.

"Well, I'm sold on you," I told her.

"If I had a drachma for every time I heard that," she replied, smiling.

"Did the army know you could do that?"

"They knew enough," she replied. "I've never made a secret of it."

"As fascinating as Diana's past history is, to return to business," Alan drawled. "The feeling is that we're the first, but we won't be the last. We want to put a structure in place so that when others like us discover who they are, they'll have somewhere to go, someone to train them. Bat's in too; he's not...quite like us, but he's very driven, and besides, we need someone with a brain like his. You've put two and two together, haven't you?"

"He's Batman. The vigilante of Gotham."

"The CIG turns a blind eye as long as he doesn't kill anyone. He's doing good work, and he's smart as a whip. There'll be more like him, and maybe they won't have quite his moral code. And if we're rising up on this side..." Alan spread his hands. "What's rising up on the other?"

"I'm more interested in the question of who's supervising this venture," I replied. "I'm not working for the government. I served my tour."

"Did you," Alan said, grinning. "Nobody supervises us. I can arrange for the blessing of the US Government, but they won't control our activities. Think of it more like a volunteer position. We train together, we work together when we have to, and we see to our own business the rest of the time."

I glanced at Diana. She shrugged and smiled. "Seemed like a good time, to me. The four of us could do a lot of good, set a lot of standards."

"Then I'm in, I suppose," I said. "What are we calling ourselves?"

"I thought the League of Heroes sounded appropriate," Diana said.

"I still think that's putting ourselves up a little high," Alan added.

"What about...the Justice League?" I asked.

Diana and Alan glanced at each other.

"Told you he'd be useful," Alan said.

"So you did, and I didn't disagree, if you'll remember," she said, rolling down her sleeves and shrugging back into her flight jacket. "I think you two have other matters to discuss, and I have business to see to. Very nice to meet you -- I'm sure we'll speak again soon," she said to me, and stood. "Don't get up, boys, I'll see myself out."

When she was gone, I looked back at Alan, who had changed back into his ordinary clothes. "She's something else," I said.

"She's a princess from a race of Amazons who have access to powers the rest of the world only dreams of, and her mother is an actual goddess," Alan said. "I'm just glad as hell she's on our side."

"No kiddin'," I said.

"So you needed to speak to me about Batman?"

I nodded. "I need to pass a message and ask a favor."

"Well, that's how the...Justice League works, at least I hope," he said.

"Do you know who he is?"

"Nobody but his handler knows that, if he even knows. One of our guys is undercover in Gotham investigating police corruption, he said he'd handle Bat. Even so it took Bat months to trust him. He's still uncertain about the League, but I'm talking him around. You'd probably do a better job of it."

"Does he know who you are?"

"Yes. Does he know who _you_ are?"

"Nobody knows who I am," I said.

"Don't be so sure. Bat's a detective, he has ways and means. Anyway, what did you need? I'll talk to our man in Gotham."

"Louis Lane from the Planet -- do you know Louis?"

"Only from his columns. He works with a pal of mine, Kent. Kent's the one I asked to invite you up here."

"Yeah, so I heard," I said, wondering, as always, how nobody recognized me. I should have thought to wear a mask when I was starting out, but apparently I didn't need one. "Lane's coming to Gotham for a few days, to take Bat up on some offer he made. I wanted to let Bat know, and ask him to keep an eye out. He knows who to look for."

"Lane likely to get into trouble?"

"It's practically a guarantee."

"I'll keep him informed. This was good," Alan said, toying with his ring. "A good start. I'll circle around with Bat and -- how do I get in touch with you? Kent again?"

I considered, not for the first time, having some kind of Superman-only telephone line installed. "Sure. He knows how, now."

"Hey, watch him, would you? Kid's a lamb. Good soldier but not exactly streetwise, and he's getting in over his head with some business down in Metropolis."

I smiled, standing. "I'll look in on him. Good to meet you, Mr. Scott."

Alan grinned back. "Call me Green Lantern."

By the time I left, there was a small crowd of people who had clearly seen me go in; someone was there with a camera, and I signed a few autograph books before the local press got to me. I like being a reporter, but there's something to be said for lifting off and leaving them disappointed when they're about to start bothering you.

"Christ, where have you been?" Lois asked, when I returned to the newsroom. "My article's in the bag, it's going out as a feature tomorrow with Jimmy's picture of the swastika, I'm on the six pm train to Gotham, Superman visited the federal government today, and I need to buy a dress."

"Uh?" I tried.

"Clark! Focus! Superman! Perry wants you on the story and he was about to put me on it and I can't because I called Bruce Wayne and he's throwing a costume ball in my honor and I need a dress."

I sighed. Easy enough to write a story about my own visit to the CIG, especially since I could control exactly what went in it (my favorite sentence has always been "Superman was unavailable for comment", which is good because I write it a lot) but Lois was going to go buy some undoubtedly devastating dress in which to dance some more with Bruce Wayne. Life was unfair.

"Go," I said. "I'll cover the Superman thing. Remember he's an idiot!" I called, as she ran out of the newsroom. "Stupid Bruce Wayne," I muttered to myself.

***

I very resolutely managed to stay out of Gotham for the entire four days that Lois was gone. Alan had said Batman would be looking out for her, and she'd said she could handle herself anyway. Besides, I might have been jealous of Bruce Wayne's easy ability to charm, but I wasn't the kind of creep who'd follow a woman to another city just to glare at the competition.

I might consider it, because it wasn't like I couldn't just...zip over and back again, but I wouldn't do it. Well, nobody's perfect.

I did have work of my own to do, too. Lois's column didn't seem to stir up anything overt; no more swastikas on the doors. But on the second day after it ran, the day Bruce Wayne was throwing his big costume ball -- _not that I was paying attention_ \-- it happened.

Lex Luthor tried to buy the Daily Planet.

I didn't know much about Luthor, not any more than anyone else did, I supposed. He'd shown up in Metropolis in '45, ready to spend and build and, so it seemed, catapult the city into the new postwar era. Nobody knew where his money had come from. If anyone knew where he himself had come from, they kept it to themselves.

"Self-made man," Lois had posited one night, sharing a late dinner in the newsroom. "Like Jay Gatsby," she added darkly.

"Little young for Gatsby's line of work," I replied. "How do you figure, anyway?"

"He reeks of New Money. Overspending, joining all the right clubs, trying to impress people -- Old Money doesn't need to impress anyone, it assumes all lower life forms come pre-impressed. At least he's not some thug with no class, I guess."

"Seems smart enough."

"Oh, he's brilliant at what he does. Plays his cards right, he'll be mayor of Metropolis in ten years."

"Well, maybe I should quit and go work for him. He probably needs a speechwriter," I joked. Lois glanced at me skeptically.

"Don't leave the Daily Planet," she said quietly, one of the few times I've seen her talk about me with any seriousness. "Especially not to work for him. Anything he could get you isn't worth your soul."

"He's not the devil, Lois."

"He's no angel, either."

And there he was, walking through the newsroom, chatting amiably with Burt Mason, the owner of the paper, who was about a hundred years old and Lois always said had apprenticed to Benjamin Franklin. We all knew that the Planet had been quietly "available" for a few years, but Burt didn't seem to be in any hurry to sell before, and there hadn't been any buyers anyway.

"What's Lex Luthor doing here?" Jimmy asked, casually leaning on my desk.

"Hell if I know," I said. "More importantly, why's he so chummy with Mason?"

"You think he's..." Jimmy rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money. "Making an offer?"

At which point my phone rang.

"Kent, Daily Planet," I said, still watching as Mason gave Luthor a tour of the newsroom.

"Clark, it's Lois."

"Oh! Hey, how's Gotham? Is it everything you hoped and dreamed?" I asked drily.

"Well, Wayne Manor certainly is -- "

"You're _staying with him?_ "

"There's about a dozen people staying with him, Clark, it's like a country house party. Charming. I've barely seen him. Stop being a ninny."

"And your other investigation?"

"Well, I've had a truly delightful tour of the smellier parts of the Gotham shipping and transport scene," she sighed. "No luck, but I'm not done yet. Hey, I had a thought. Doesn't Metropolis do more import-export than Gotham?"

"I think so. I'd have to check with Research."

"So why are these ratlines originating in Gotham?"

"Maybe their HQ is in Gotham."

"Or it's in Metropolis, and whoever's running everything doesn't want to get their hands dirty."

"I'll look into it, for what it's worth, but I should probably hang up now, Lois, because I think Burt Mason's about to sell."

" _What?_ "

"He's giving Lex Luthor the two-dollar tour. Jimmy -- " Jimmy gave a wave, " -- Jimmy says hi, and he thinks Luthor's going to make an offer. I think so too."

"And me stuck in Gotham. Clark, can't you stall them or something?"

"Stall them with what? And why? We knew Mason would sell sooner or later."

There was a click on the line, and a voice said, "Hello? Is this line free?"

"Who is this?" I asked.

"This is Bruce Wayne, and you're using my telephone," the voice said, sounding amused.

"Bruce! I'm sorry, it's Lois, I was just checking in at the Planet," Lois said. "I'm on the front hall extension."

"I'm in the library. How funny! That's very dedicated of you, but if it's not urgent, I have some incredibly boring stockholder issues I need to handle before the ball tonight."

"I'll ring off," I said. "Look after yourself, Lois."

"Was that Kent?" I heard Wayne ask, as I hung up the phone. "He's pretty joyless, eh?"

I let my head fall to my desk, sighing. Jimmy patted the back of it.

"Least we're not in two feet of mud and getting shot at," he said.

The funny thing was, though, that Luthor didn't get the Planet. By the time he and Mason were behind closed doors, the entire paper was humming with the rumor that he was going to buy; I could see Perry trying to listen to their conversation with a glass pressed up against the wall his office shared with Mason's.

After about ten minutes, the door to Mason's office flew open and Luthor stormed out, eyes burning, fists clenched, and everyone scurried to get out of this way. He slammed the newsroom door behind him as he left, and all eyes went back to Burt Mason's office. Mason was standing in the doorway, looking amused.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "The Daily Planet is now out of my hands. Your new owner wishes to remain anonymous, but I can promise you that man just there wasn't him. Some tomfool called while we were haggling and offered twice what Luthor wanted to pay. Damndest thing."

"Are you quitting, Burt?" Perry asked.

"I'm moving to god damned Bermuda and spending the rest of my life drinking booze out of coconut shells, Perry," Mason said.

"But who's going to run the paper?" Jimmy asked.

Mason looked at him as if he were trying to remember who he was. "Oh, for heaven's sake. White's been running it for years already. You all must think I do a lot more work than I do around here. Enjoy your new owner!" he added, and swanned out.

Utter silence fell over the newsroom.

"Well?" Perry said, after a moment. "Get cracking, everyone, this paper doesn't print itself!"

***

Lois was supposed to come back to Metropolis on the Saturday afternoon train; she'd asked me to come down and meet her and drive her home, because apparently I was the only other person that she trusted with her little red two-seat roadster. I have to admit it was a nice car to drive.

Instead, however, I got a telephone call on -- well, technically Saturday morning.

It was only good sense to keep the telephone next to the bed, seeing as how we often got middle-of-the-night calls to go out and cover something happening. When it rang, I managed to fumble the lamp on before answering, expecting Perry's voice barking orders (the man never seemed to sleep).

"This is Kent," I mumbled, already throwing back the blankets.

"Clark, it's Lois," she said, and I was instantly awake.

"Lois?" I asked. "It's two in the morning, what's wrong? Did you catch the sleeper train and I mixed up the time?"

"No. I'm at a Gotham City police station."

"Holy -- what are you doing there?"

"I shot a man."

I rubbed my eyes. "Fatally?"

"Kneecap. He'll live, but he'll never win any footraces again."

"Are you under arrest?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "It was self-defense, technically, but the Gotham cops, I swear. These guys scare me more than the Gotham criminals do. Anyway, I wanted someone to know where I am. I snuck over to a Sergeant's desk and called."

"Lois! You can't steal long-distance from the police!"

"Well, I am, so deal with it," she growled.

"Do you need me to wire you bail?"

"Sweet Smallville. Maybe, but I don't think so. Here's a hot tip if you can do anything with it."

"So hot you called me illegally at two in the morning?" I grumbled, but I reached for my notebook. "Fire away."

"The man I shot was working for the ratline. I saw him unloading passengers from what was supposed to be a fishing boat. It's an old rum-runner trick -- "

"Moor out at sea, unload the cargo into a smaller boat, speed it in," I said, nodding, not that she could see.

"Right. He had a whole line of cars and a big cargo truck with him. That's why we can't catch them, Clark, they're totally mobile. No safe houses. Not in Gotham, anyway. They have to have somewhere in Metropolis where they can pick up their new papers, at least. We need to look for a warehouse, somewhere with lots of parking and space for a forgery operation. And I have a description of the cargo truck -- it has to be some kind of movable headquarters."

"Got it. I can work with this, I think Perry knows someone in the city planner's office. There's gotta be a million of them, but I'm sure we can find something."

"I took down the numbers of some of the plates before they drove off. They don't know I'm onto them; the only guy they left behind is the one I shot, so unless he's tipped off the police -- "

"A very real possibility."

"I know. But at least now we know a little more."

"And it's really good work. I'll have something for you by the time you get in tomorrow," I said, and then paused. "Why didn't you call Bruce Wayne?"

There was a soft sigh on the line. "If you don't know that, Smallville..."

"No, I don't know. He has money and connections and he's in Gotham. He can get you out of there. You need to hang up and call him, if you can. Or I will."

"I told you, he's a -- Clark, I have to go," she said. "Batman just walked into the precinct. Three o'clock on the platform tomorrow, meet me there! Don't call me, I'll call when I can."

"Lois, wait -- " I said, but the line had gone dead.

I could try and call the Gotham police, but I didn't know what precinct she was being kept in, and I didn't want to give away that she'd called. I could get to Gotham in under half an hour, but that might blow an even bigger game. And if Batman was there -- I'd asked him to look after her --

I decided to be patient. Presumably she still had Betty, and she had allies in Gotham. Besides, when a reporter disappears, it's bad publicity for everyone concerned. That's not to say I didn't pace the floor quite a lot, but the wait was rewarded: twenty minutes later, the phone rang.

"Lois?" I asked, picking it up.

"My apologies, Mr. Kent," said a voice on the line -- English accent, particularly stuffy. "My name is Alfred. I'm Mr. Wayne's butler. Miss Lane asked me to let you know that she's been safely returned to Wayne Manor."

"Let me speak to her."

"Quite out of the question, I'm afraid; she's already asleep. These police ruffians will wear a person out," he said. "That _Batman_ fellow brought her to our door, and I can't imagine that was particularly pleasant either. She seemed unharmed, however, and says she'll see you at the station at three, per your arrangement."

"Where the hell is Wayne?" I demanded. "Did she call him?"

"Master Bruce is not at the manor at present, but rest assured Miss Lane is quite safe. Have you any reply to give her?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, sighing. "Tell her -- tell her I'll see her at the station, and I'm working on the project she told me to look into."

"Just so, Mr. Kent. Good morning," he said, and hung up.

I sighed and set the handset down in its cradle. Might as well get a start on the day.

***

Lois arrived on the three o'clock train, just as planned -- and she had Bruce Wayne with her.

"Clark!" she called, waving, and I took in the two of them: Lois looking eager and self-satisfied (if a little tired), Wayne carrying her suitcase and hovering over her like a porter waiting for a tip. At least he seemed to have left his butler in Gotham.

"Welcome back," I said, reaching for her suitcase. Wayne kept a tight grip on it. "I see someone followed you home."

"Bruce was worried about me getting out of Gotham," she said, patting his arm affectionately.

"I'm not much of a fighter but I did study boxing at boarding school," he said, making a weak fist and waving it ineffectually. "And I thought, if nothing else, I could call for help. Good to see you again, Kent."

"Likewise," I said through gritted teeth.

"Well, gorgeous, this is where I leave you," he said, kissing Lois's hand. "I'll be in Metropolis until tomorrow night; call me if any more fiends threaten you. I have a suite at the Metropolis Grand," he added, loading her suitcase into the car. "Taxi!"

"Oh, thank god," Lois said, as I handed her the keys and Wayne disappeared into a cab. "He talked the entire trip back. He's charming for the first ten minutes and then insufferable."

"What did you do?"

"Feigned sleep," she said, tossing me a grin as she pulled out into traffic. It turned oddly fond. "I'm glad to be back in Metropolis."

"No more kneecapping thugs?" I asked. "You have to tell me the full story, now that you're not defrauding the police."

"Not much to tell. It was sheer luck I happened to see the boat come in -- I flipped a coin for where I should go, it came up with the fishing wharves. I saw a bunch of cars and the truck; saw the transfer go down. They left and I was about to get away when the one stupid guy they left behind caught me. I don't think he knows I saw anything. I played dumb till I shot him."

"Your _modus operandi_."

"I try," she said, laughing. "Anyway, a passing patrol heard the gunfire and came and arrested us both. I called you, and you know the rest."

"Hardly," I said. "Batman showed up?"

"Yeah. Walked right into the precinct. That was strange. But he must have connections; he sprung me and drove me home. His car..." she whistled low. "He might be a head case but he has style."

"Oh?"

"The man dresses up like a bat," she said.

"Yeah, but Superman -- "

"That's different! Superman doesn't sneak around at night, and his uniform makes sense. Sort of. I mean I'm glad Batman came and helped me out of a tight spot and all, but he's a little..." she circled her finger next to her head. "I kept trying to get an in for an interview and he kept...grunting." She sighed. "Well, win some, lose some. So what did you find?"

"Seven warehouses that fit the requirements," I said, reading out of my notebook. "Assuming they're using an abandoned one, and not a legitimate business or a criminal enterprise. I also assumed most of the crooks in Metropolis steer clear of them. We'd have heard more about them if they were working with locals."

"You check any of them out?"

"Not yet. Daylight seems a little conspicuous. I thought we could snoop around tonight."

"Boy, you sure know how to show a gal a good time."

"Well, it's not canapés and champagne, but I promise you I can throw a better punch than Bruce Wayne."

"Smallville, _I_ can throw a better punch than Bruce Wayne."

"So his charms really wore off, huh?"

"I'm telling you, Clark, there's something in the water in Gotham. Anyway, he's a story. He's always a story, and he's a resource, and he has connections. I'm not interested in him. I'm not even gold-digging him."

"I never said you were."

"Well, good," she said.

"All right," I answered. 

"So I'll see you tonight, then?" she asked, pulling up outside of my building.

"The diner near the Planet? Nine o'clock?"

"Better get my beauty rest in the meantime. You too, you look worn down."

"Well, a friend of mine woke me up at two in the morning," I said, and she smiled.

"Reliable Clark. Go write home to Ma and Pa," she said, and roared off in the roadster.

"Reliable. Great," I repeated.

***

Metropolis, being a coastal city, always did a lot of shipping and storage. There's an extensive dock district full of warehouses, some of them crumbling, others havens for criminals and thugs. Some had lead paint, which made it harder to see through the walls into them -- for some reason my x-ray vision doesn't work on lead. It wasn't indulgence that drove me to go with Lois to check out the warehouses; two heads were better than one, and anyway Superman would have tipped them off that we were getting closer.

"So you really got no response from that article on the ratlines I worked so hard on?" Lois asked, as we climbed a fire escape of an occupied warehouse to see if we could look across the street into the windows of an empty one. We were on our fourth of the seven on my list, and having no luck.

"Nothing concrete," I answered. "I did pay attention," I added, when she gave me a dry look.

"Well, I got yelled at by Batman for it," she sighed, "so I guess I'm not any better off."

"You got -- I thought you said he just grunted!"

She settled on the roof, crouching low, peering over the edge. "There may have been a few choice words about making his and Superman's job harder."

"Wonder if he checked with Superman before speaking for him."

"Who knows how the capes do things," Lois said. "I could use a word with him, though, see if he's seen anything."

"Are those opera glasses?" I asked, as she peered through a tiny pair of binoculars.

"I can't like opera?" she retorted.

"You hate opera."

" _You_ hate opera."

"Yes, we both hate opera, we discussed this months ago."

"They fit in my purse," she said, sounding annoyed. "Excuse me if the US Army isn't the one outfitting my combat gear."

"They're lovely opera glasses," I replied.

"Thank you. But they're useless here, since that warehouse is definitely empty." She settled back, sighing. "I really did think that article would get some attention."

"Well, aside from Lex Luthor trying to buy the Planet..."

"Lex Luthor wouldn't be involved in a ratline, would he?"

"You said yourself you thought he was some kind of crook."

"Only that nobody knows where his money came from. What kind of rich guy would try to get richer helping Nazis?"

"I don't know," I said. "Evil rich guy?"

"Well, at least he didn't get the paper. I don't trust him. So where's the next warehouse on the list?"

"It's a mile north of here, and it's empty as well," a voice said, and we both turned. Lois's hand went into her purse for Betty. "Easy, Lane."

There was a shadow on the rooftop, crouched on a gargoyle, moonlight glinting off metal here and there. He jumped down lightly and stood there, studying us: wide shoulders, thick arms, and arrogance in every inch of his stance.

"Batman," I said.

"You two are going to get yourselves killed," he replied. "I cleared the last three on your list. If this one is clear, then your list is wrong."

"Well, gee, thanks for -- "

"Come with me," he interrupted, and jumped off the top of a building _again_. I looked at Lois. She shrugged and started down the fire escape.

He didn't really walk with us so much as lead us, never quite fully visible; at times he paused for no apparent reason, signalled us to pause too, and then went on. We finally scrambled up another fire escape after him and into the second floor of a rundown apartment building. It had been furnished -- well, it had a table, two chairs, and a cot nearby -- and one wall was covered with pinned-up paper.

"You have a secret lair in Metropolis?" I asked. I was thinking I should probably have some kind of secret lair.

"I needed room to work."

"And the spread?" Lois was inspecting his wall of papers: newspaper clippings, scrawled handwritten notes, photographs.

"The work I needed room for. I find it helps me think," Batman said.

"Makes you look a little nutty," Lois replied.

"You're one to talk, Louis."

"Hey, that's a necessary evil." She leaned closer to one of the papers. "This is -- this is from my desk! And Clark, this is one of yours. These are Daily Planet papers. You broke into the Planet after we left?" she demanded, turning on him.

"Vigilante," he said coolly. "It's what I do."

"You had no right to rifle through my desk! Our desks!"

"Arrest me," he replied, offering his wrists. Lois glared. "No? Then can we get back to solving this problem?"

"More importantly, why is this even here?" I asked, tapping one of my own papers. "Science lab break-ins? You think they're connected?"

"The thefts started around the same time the ratline opened," Batman said. "And I can guess who was coming through, based on them. Either of you familiar with Operation Paperclip?"

I looked at Lois. She nodded.

"Rumors only," she said. "The government offered asylum to Nazi scientists in return for their help with our rocket program."

"Not all the scientists they were after wanted to work for them. Someone opened this ratline specifically to import rocket technicians to Metropolis. They're building something. A bomb, possibly. Or something more sinister."

"More sinister than a bomb?" I asked, thinking of the screams I'd heard, the night they bombed Hiroshima.

"Four years ago, did you imagine the atomic bomb could even exist?" he asked. "There's always something worse, if you know how to do it right. The ratline's just a symptom. Nasty, but not the real point. The point was to get the scientists. And build the whatever-it-is."

"We're not looking at the right warehouses," I said quietly.

"You're not looking for a printing press, that's for sure," he replied. "I'd say more like a large hangar with a chemistry lab attached. Somewhere remote. Not necessarily near the docks. The men they're not shipping south, they're keeping there." He paused. "And I think Lex Luthor will own the property, when we find it."

"Why?" I asked.

"The same reason Lane does. Her little call out in the paper got him interested. I know he tried to buy the Planet."

"You know who beat him to the punch?" Lois asked.

"Yes," he said with a small smile. "But I'm not telling you. I have a few names of Luthor's shell corporations," he added, pulling one of the pinned-up papers down and offering it to her. "If you can find his property holdings, you can find where he's building...what he's building. You'll find the scientists there, and if you're lucky you'll crack the ratline in half."

"Why are _we_ doing all this?" I asked.

"Your town, your beat. Your exclusive."

"What are you doing in the meantime?" Lois asked.

"I have a city to look after, but I'll be watching. You find what you're looking for, I'll know. Don't do anything heroic; leave that to the heroes."

"The Justice League," I said, and then realized my mistake. Two sets of blue eyes turned to me, curious.

"What's the Justice League?" they asked in unison; Lois curious, Batman sardonic.

They looked sharply at each other. It was almost funny, really.

"Ah," I said.

"Seems you two have some things to discuss," Batman announced. "Try not to splash it all over the front page, huh? And if you see Superman," he added, climbing out the window, with a pointed look at me over his shoulder, "tell him we need to talk."

"He does love to make an exit," Lois said, into the awkward silence that followed. "Justice League, huh?"

"It's a thing some people are doing," I replied.

"Heroic people? Like Superman and Batman?"

"And maybe a few others. Look, I don't know more than that."

"You got an exclusive from Superman, didn't you?" she accused.

"Uhh..."

"You ass!"

"Hey, if you had, would you have asked me along?" I asked. "It was just once and I'm not allowed to print anything yet."

"I would have at least mentioned it!"

"You would have gloated."

"Look, I didn't get into the newspaper business for the big paycheck," she said, but then she smiled. "Fine, Smallville, have it your way. Come on, I'll give you a lift home."

I went upstairs when Lois dropped me off, then further up, changing in the little stairwell that led from my apartment to the roof. I figured Batman would find me before I found him, and I wasn't wrong; not ten minutes after I took off looking, I saw a light flashing at the top of the south bridge. It spans the Dysee river that comes down from Gotham, turning that city into an island before it flows south to mark the western edge of Metropolis. I landed lightly, and he switched off the electric lamp, setting it aside.

"You've been talking to Kent," he said, without greeting.

"Am I here to get scolded like a kid?" I asked.

"You are a kid."

"Kent's a resource. If I didn't talk to him, we wouldn't be meeting here now. Can't say I'm overjoyed to see you in Metropolis."

"Believe me, I'm not overjoyed to be here." He was studying me, clearly looking for weak spots, vulnerabilities. "Seriously, are you old enough to be in this business?"

"Did you want something, Batman?" 

"I thought we should meet. Seeing as Lantern and Diana invited you aboard," he said. "Justice League, huh?"

"Seemed apt."

"I suspect you're going to need some help in Metropolis soon. Kent keep you up to date on what's happening?"

"More or less." I tilted my head. "But I have no way of calling for help even if I need it."

"Ah." He dug in one of the pouches on his belt and tossed me a square object about the size of my palm, and perhaps a quarter of an inch thick. There was a catch on one end, and I opened it. Inside was a switch and what looked like a microscope slide.

"It's crude, but it does the job," he said. "It operates on a very specific, boosted radio frequency. Flip the switch."

I flipped it, and immediately there was a whistling noise. He took out an identical box and opened it, showing me the interior of his. The glass slide was glowing faintly blue. I switched off, and the light died.

"Blue for Metropolis. Yellow for Gotham. Red for Washington. Well." He tilted his head. "For the people who live there, anyway. Diana's and Lantern's both flash red. If you're in Gotham and you sound the alarm it'll still flash blue, and if you're more than about five hundred miles away it won't work at all, so use with care. I'm working on the problem."

"This is amazing," I said. "Where'd you get it?"

"I built them."

"You what?"

"I don't have the strength of a hundred men or magical bulletproof bracelets or a ring that lets me fly," he said without bitterness. "I -- " 

Behind his mask, his eyes narrowed.

"What?" I asked.

"You're wearing something under the uniform," he said, pointing to my chest.

"So?"

"So I want to know if we're being recorded."

I rolled my eyes and reached under my cape, fingers catching the thin chain there. I pulled out the medal that hung on the chain, showing it to him.

"Saint's medal?" he asked, drawing closer.

"No," I said, defensively. "It was -- found with me. It's nothing."

He held out his hand, questioningly. I sighed and let it fall into his palm.

It was a small thing, not bigger than a quarter; some kind of metal, with a blue gem embedded in the center. That and the cape were all I had; Pa destroyed the ship I came in when I was two. A Census man had come around asking questions about why I didn't have a birth certificate. Ma and Pa got jumpy.

"I'd like a closer look at -- "

"No," I said, pulling the medal back. He frowned.

"Lantern says you're the son of Krypton, whatever that means."

"Lantern talks too much."

He snorted. "In the meantime, I have to get back to Gotham. When the bat's away, you know. Keep in touch with Kent. Signal me when he and Lane find something."

"You seem pretty sure they will."

"Lane's sharp. Kent's dogged. They'll turn up something. And hey," he added, "our business is private. Justice League's not even off the ground yet, we don't need reporters hearing about it from you. Keep your babyfaced mouth shut."

"Kent's all right."

"Forgive me for not believing you," he said.

"This League won't work if we don't trust each other. I'll handle Kent and Lane."

"See that you do," he said.

He was fast, I gave him that; he stepped backwards from the top of the tower, onto the suspension cable, and slid down to the foot of the bridge, disappearing into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical notes:
> 
> The **[Women Airforce Service Pilots](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Women_Airforce_Service_Pilots)** flew with distinction during WWII. You can see Diana's "duty" uniform and flying leathers **[here](http://wingsacrossamerica.us/wasp/gallery/wasp_uniforms.htm)**. (And thanks to Spider for the suggestion that Diana be a WASP!)


	3. Chapter 3

"I think we should go to dinner," Lois said to me the following day, five hours into our delightful stay at the Metropolis City Land Office And Planning Commission's archives.

"It's two in the afternoon," I said, dropping another few dozen files of land purchase certifications on the table. Given that we didn't know where the land was, or the name of the corporation that owned it, we were having to sort through the last few years of land purchases by hand.

"I mean tonight," she said, laughing. "This is murder. I need something to look forward to. Once we're done here, let's get dressed up and go out to dinner. Or dancing. Drinks, at least, and don't pull that _Oh, Lois, I don't know_ stuff on me. I want a reward for this."

"It's our job," I said, but I was grinning too. "Have anyplace in particular in mind?"

"The Deco Club," she said, resting her chin on her hands dreamily.

"You don't think small, do you?" I asked. The Deco Club was the hottest nightspot in town. With Prohibition a distant memory, the Depression seven years dead, and the war two years gone, it was very hot indeed.

"I'll put on my best suit -- the red one -- "

"Yes, I know the red one," I said.

"And you can dust off your fedora and your Sunday shoes that don't have cracks across the toes -- "

"Cracks show they're broken in!"

" -- and we'll have a night on the town. Whaddaya say, Smallville? I'll treat."

I looked at her over the stack of files. One of her hands was toying almost nervously with a pencil; the other was folded over the file she'd been reading.

Back when we first met, I'd been smitten because she was beautiful, and because she had an even smarter mouth than I did, which until I came to Metropolis I'd never encountered. For a couple of months it'd been a schoolboy kind of crush, I can admit that. Formless dreams, really; I just wanted to spend time with her.

Lately, though, I'd been thinking of something different, more concrete. Not the little house in the suburbs with a yard and a dog, the dream most of the guys coming back from the war had; not the farm, either, much as I'd loved Smallville growing up. I wanted a big apartment in the city, high ceilings, lots of light. An office, maybe with a shelf for some journalism awards, and if they were Lois's, that'd be all right by me. I wanted to build a life in Metropolis, and I wanted it with her. Snappy suits and smart mouth and bad hours and all.

But it was hard to imagine having all that and still having Superman. Hard to imagine asking a woman to share that kind of life but not being able to give her everything I was -- not when part of me belonged to Metropolis. And now with this Justice League, even more of me was taken.

"Hey, Clark," Lois said, and I realized I'd let the silence go a little too long. She shrugged, looking down at the file. "It was just an idea," she mumbled.

"No, I guess that'd be swell," I said. "Dinner and dancing. I like it. How much longer till you think we can knock off here?"

She looked up again, smile bright. "I say if we don't find anything by six we give ourselves the night off, and damn the Batman."

I nodded. "And we meet at the Deco Club at seven-thirty?"

"If you think you can handle it, Smallville," she replied.

"You know, back in Kansas I was known to cut a rug now and then," I said, and she cracked up laughing.

***

The Deco Club had been one of the Metropolis Mansions in the 20's, big urban houses built by bootleggers and other profiteers during the Prohibition boom. Most of them were sold off cheap when the market crashed in '29, and more than a few had been knocked down for office buildings and apartment houses once the war was over. The Deco Club had been saved from the wrecking ball by some restaurateur, who took out most of the interior walls, put in a dance floor, and spent his last penny on some big opening acts. It worked; Deco was the place to be, and under its gold-leaf finials and smooth-edged archways Metropolis society gossipped and drank, smoked, seduced, and sang.

Can you guess I was thinking of doing a piece on it?

I hadn't even considered that it might be difficult to get a table just walking in -- the Deco Club wasn't the kind of place I generally went -- but even if I had, I knew that Lois knew people. When I got there at half-past seven, I gave my name to the maitre'd and he said, "Ah. Mr. Lane's friend. This way, sir," and led me to a table off to one side, near to the stage. A young woman was singing, entertaining the patrons until the main act. Leggy women with trays of cigarettes circled the room.

"Look at you, all cosmopolitan," Lois said, sliding into the chair across from me.

"How'd you get a table here?" I asked.

"I know people," she said mysteriously. "How's it feel to be one of the Beautiful Few tonight?"

I smiled. "Feels all right. Though it's hard to feel too beautiful when you've spent all day in a file room."

"Plus I told Perry you're stringing the crime beat tomorrow," Lois said. "So it'll be just little old me in the archives."

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because the Planet's two best reporters haven't filed a story each in three days?" She raised an eyebrow. "Metropolis will forget what it owes us if one of us doesn't have a byline soon. I'll take the beat the day after, and you can have the file room to yourself."

"How gracious," I said.

"Gives me a chance to find something first," she said wickedly. A waiter appeared, and she glanced up at him. "Sidecar, easy on the brandy."

He glanced at me.

"Whiskey sour."

"Very good. Will you be dining tonight?" he asked.

"Steaks, rare," Lois said. The man smiled.

" _Very_ good," he said.

"Seems like we should save that kind of celebration for after we break the ratline," I said, and Lois settled back in her chair.

"Why? Admittedly, the pay at the Planet's not phenomenal, but we make enough to indulge. At least I do, and I assume you do. And we're power players in this city now, Clark. We know people, we have an impact on policy and culture here. People read the Planet because it has Louis Lane or Clark Kent on the byline. You remember your first front-page piece?"

I nodded.

"You keep count of how many you've had since?"

"Well, no."

"Because you're a front-pager, and so am I. And I've been thinking it's time I hung Louis up," she added, as our drinks arrived. I gaped at her. "He has his uses, but he's getting to be more trouble than he's worth. Anyway, most people who matter know who I am."

"But you've been Louis for...what, five years?"

"Something like that. Imagine the sales when it turns out Louis Lane is a woman," she said, sipping her drink.

I frowned. "Have you talked to Perry about this?"

"Yes. I told him if he started putting me on society columns and women's fashion I'd walk, and you'd walk with me." She looked at me, a dare. "Wouldn't you?"

"Of course. But you don't think Perry'd do that."

"No, but it doesn't hurt to remind him the kind of sway we have. When we write this exclusive, I'm going to write it under Lois Lane."

"That's...brave," I said, looking down at my drink. When I glanced back up, she was smiling. She tilted her head at the table nearby, where two couples were sneaking covert glances at us. I could hear them talking, but only because -- well, super-hearing.

"What do you suppose they're saying about us?" she asked. "They're saying, Clark Kent's here. Wonder who that dame is he's with."

Which was eerily correct, in fact.

"I want them to be saying, Clark Kent and Lois Lane are here. Anyway, you'd back me up, right? If things did get ugly."

"Always, Lois. You know that."

"Then I'm not worried." She took another sip of her drink, studying me. "So, you want to dance?"

"I'm not much of a dancer," I admitted.

"What's to know? Stand and sway," she said, pointing at where other couples were stepping onto the floor, now that the band was striking up.

Dancing with Lois was close to my idea of perfect. Flying's all right, but you pretty much have to do it alone. And saving lives is a lot of work and danger. Dancing with a gorgeous woman is just...standing and swaying. It's easy and wonderful. 

I could hear, now that I was listening for it, the people talking around us, about us. I'd never really thought much about the paper's readers, beyond Perry yelling at me for the occasional three-dollar word nobody was going to understand if he printed it. I hadn't thought about who I was in Metropolis, either; I had enough problems being Superman without Clark Kent getting in on the action. But there it was --

_Is that Clark Kent? You know, the newspaper man._

_Who's that woman? Kent knows how to pick 'em..._

_Might be Lane._

_Lane's a man!_

_Not what I heard._

_Why's she wearing pants?_

_Bet she's a source for some story he's writing. He probably had to take her out to get the dirt._

_Nice work if you can get it._

_Hell, in that suit, could be a man anyway._

_No, that's definitely a woman. I bet you it is Lane. Gosh, she's pretty._

_Kent's no slouch himself._

"What's funny?" Lois asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Just enjoying myself, that's all."

"Good," she said, as the music ended. "Me too."

We didn't dance much after that, but dinner was nice -- good food, and you couldn't beat the company -- and by the time we left the Deco Club, I was pretty well pleased with the world.

"Is this the part where I offer to walk you home?" I asked, playing the old joke.

"This is the part where I say I brought the roadster, and offer you a ride," she replied. "Why do you think I only had the one drink?"

"Fair enough," I said, as the garage boy brought the car around. He started to hand me the keys, but Lois reached out and snatched them. "You were right. This was fun."

"I'm always right."

"Always, huh?" I asked, tipping the garage boy a nickel and climbing into the passenger's seat.

"Almost always. I'm not responsible for typos. And," she added, "I seem to remember a few days ago an actual superhero telling you that you were wrong about the warehouses."

"Well, now, that could happen to anyone. I mean, he is a superhero."

"Huh. He's from Gotham. Superman could beat him with both hands tied behind his back."

"I never knew you were such a patriot for Metropolis."

"Well, it beat where I grew up. We can't all have idyllic farm childhoods amongst the corn."

"We planted wheat and soy, too, you know," I said. "And sweet potatoes."

"What is _soy?_ " Lois asked.

"It's a kind of bean. It helps replenish the soil and -- "

"Seriously, farm boy?"

I settled back, grinning. "Not anymore. I'm Clark Kent the newspaper man now."

When she pulled up in front of my building, I got out to go inside, but she put the car in park and climbed out too.

"I'll see you tomorrow at some point," I said. "Call me if you find what we're looking for."

"Have fun covering murders," she replied. "Hey, Clark."

"Hm?" I asked, keys in one hand, ready to go inside.

"You think it'd work?"

"What?" I asked, and Lois grabbed my tie and kissed me.

It was a good kiss. I was surprised as all get-out, and I dropped my keys and probably made some kind of noise, but she did have hold of my tie. After a second or two I leaned into it. When she leaned back, she didn't let go.

"I'm tired of being Louis," she said. "And I'm tired of not getting what I want. So? What do you think?"

"I -- " I wanted to just say yes, tell her I thought it would work better than anything else I'd ever done.

But there was Superman to consider. And the Justice League.

I caught her face between my hands, leaned in, and kissed her.

"I want to say yes," I said, when we parted. "But it's not that simple."

"Sure it is," she answered. Her eyes were closed.

"Not for me, Lois. I need -- I need a few days. This surprised me. I have to...clear some things away."

Her eyes snapped open. "Are you -- you're already -- no, you would have told me -- "

"No! There's only you, it's only _ever_ been you, but...there are things you don't know, and I need to...I just need a day or two, Lois. Please."

She looked at me. Reached out and smoothed my tie where she'd crumpled it.

"It's only ever been me?" she asked.

"Uh. Did I say that out loud?"

"Did you mean it?"

I spread my hands, helplessly. "Who else could there be?"

This time, the kiss was light, just the corner of my mouth, there and gone in an instant.

"Take your few days," she said, getting back into the car. "But don't make me wait forever, Smallville. A girl can only be so patient."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said, because I couldn't think of what else to say.

"Yes, you will," she replied, and roared off.

It took a full five minutes of staring at the door to my building to remember I'd dropped my keys. When I finally did get upstairs, I tossed my hat on the table, loosened my tie, and went to the big window at one end of the room. Metropolis was glittering outside, beautiful and lit up in the moonlight.

And, I noticed, there was a distinctive green glow over the Planet building. Uplit against the sculpture of the Earth that crowned the building was a bright green _S_.

I sighed, and reached for my uniform.

Lantern was waiting for me on the roof when I touched down; he flicked off the light emanating from his ring.

"We have to find a better way to communicate," I said.

"Sorry. Batman's little toy..." he shook the alert-box, "doesn't allow for a request to have a friendly chat."

"No emergency, then?"

"No, not yet. Unless you know something I don't."

I shook my head. "What did you need?"

"It's not what I need. It's what you need," he replied. "I've spoken to my pals in the Corps about Krypton. Compiled a report for you."

He offered me a sheaf of papers. I looked down. "Is it smart to put this in writing?"

"Burn it when you're done, if you want. That's the only copy. It includes a witness account of a Corpsman who spoke to some of Krypton's leading minds before the planet..." he shrugged. "She's always said you couldn't be found. That there may have been a device given to you that would keep you safe. Teach you who you are."

I almost reached for the medal, and he caught the aborted gesture.

"She thinks a Lantern ring should be able to unlock it," he added.

"Batman didn't put you up to this, did he?" I asked, pulling the medal out.

"Does he know?"

"He thought it was a bug."

"Yeah, that's him all over," Lantern said. He was studying the medal, not touching it. "May I?"

"I'd prefer you didn't."

"You don't want to know where you come from?" he asked.

"I know where I come from," I said, but I gestured at it. "Do what you need to. If you damage it -- "

"I'll be careful, I promise."

He cupped his palm around it without pulling the chain from my neck, then tapped the ring against the gem. It sang out a clear, high note. He raised his eyebrows at me, then pressed the ring to the gem so that they vibrated against each other.

An image appeared between us, some kind of symbol: what seemed to be a stylized S, embedded in a diamond shape.

"This is the coat of arms of the house of El," a voice said, and the image faded, replaced with the face of a woman. She smiled, not quite at me -- at whatever had been recording the image, I thought.

"I am Lara, of the house of Atta," she said, still smiling benignly. "And if you are viewing this, you are very likely my son. Your name is Kal-El, prince and first heir of the house of El, third heir of the house of Atta, born on the planet Krypton. Your father's name is Jor-El -- "

I jerked back, tugging the medal out of Lantern's hand, and the image faded.

"Well, that confirms something, anyway," he said.

"How did you do it?"

"The ring operates on a sort of telepathic radio wave with my mind. Kryptonians were low-level telepaths, if you believe the stories. You've probably been using it instinctively to protect yourself. You wear it everywhere?"

"Yes."

"Good. So you already have a link," he said. "Look, I can call this up, and if that's what you want I will, but that was clearly meant only for you. Do you speak the language?"

"...what?"

"The language that lady was speaking. Do you speak it?"

"Didn't you understand it?"

"Sounded foreign to me," he said with a shrug. "It might take some work, but you can probably unlock it on your own. Just find somewhere quiet, and concentrate. Same way we learn to use our rings."

"What if I don't want to know? That woman...said she was my mother. I _have_ a mother. And if the planet is dead and gone..."

"Well, I don't know where you served in the war, but in my line of work we always said more knowledge was better than less," Lantern said. "Read what I gave you. If you don't want to look any further, don't. But I wouldn't take that off, if I were you. Do you...do you have an ordinary life?" he asked. "Like I do, I mean? Or did you give that up when all this happened?"

"I have another life," I said. "Ordinary isn't really the word for it."

"Well, that little trinket's probably all that's protecting you from being found out, given you don't wear a mask. And if you've worn it all this time, regardless of where you think you come from, your history must mean something to you. I've done my part." He turned to go. "Get in touch if you have any questions."

I almost let him leave, but at the edge of the roof I called out, "Batman said I looked like a kid."

He stopped, giving me a puzzled look.

"Not a real kid, but, you know. He said I looked young for this line of work," I continued. "Is that what you see?"

Lantern shook his head. "From where I stand you look like a soldier. Diana thought the same. She wasn't surprised you'd served."

I looked down at the medal, nodding. "Thanks. I'll let you know."

Lantern saluted, and lifted into the air. Oh, good, nice of him to warn me he could fly.

When I got home, I took the papers he'd handed me downstairs -- they looked like they'd been formatted to match a military action report, which was expected, coming from Major Alan Scott -- and set them on the kitchen counter. I took off my uniform, feeling almost choked by it, but I kept the medal around my neck. One hand holding the chain lightly, I flicked through the first few pages.

Krypton was a peaceful, advanced planet, accounts agreed. Kryptonians had technological power beyond the dreams of most other spacefaring races (how many were there, I wondered) but kept to themselves. Stayed at home. Studied -- they were a great race of students -- studied everything they could without leaving, and when they did leave, it was never more than a handful of scholars. Arrogant and proud, the lot of them. There were stories that Kryptonians who left for long periods developed certain skills, certain strengths and talents that they didn't have on their home planet, but none of them had ever confirmed it. Most of them didn't even like talking to foreigners.

They sounded like the world's biggest bores.

They were ancestor worshippers. I'm a _Methodist_.

The planet Krypton was destroyed in an unknown cataclysm, seemingly blown from within. Debris had scattered throughout space, though the Lantern who investigated the tragedy thought most of it had fallen into Krypton's sun. Rumors had consistently circulated that one of Krypton's scientists had managed to get a survivor out, preserved in stasis until an appropriate planet could be found to sustain him. A trail had led to a solar system with only one inhabited planet, whose primitive culture was still in its developmental stages and thus under the particular guardianship of the Corps. If he'd survived, the Corps believed the son of Krypton had either fallen to Earth or continued on to the next system, where there were five large inhabited planets.

At any rate, there was no way of finding the boy until he chose to make himself known. _Kal-El, prince and first heir of the house of El, third heir of the house of Atta._

Heir to two legacies from a planet that didn't exist. Prince of debris. I'd already had more from Ma and Pa -- love, a good childhood, all the books I ever asked for, all the understanding they could give -- than Krypton would ever be able to provide.

I dug around until I found my mess kit from the Army in a kitchen cabinet. I dumped out the utensils, stuffed the paper in, and put the lid back on, welding it shut with heat-vision. It was too much for one night. Lois deciding to go public -- Lois kissing me. Lantern and his revelations. The dead planet, the vanished race; the coat of arms, and the woman from the medal.

Which suddenly seemed to be heavier than the world.

I tugged the chain up and over my head, letting the medal fall to my bedside table before I lay down to sleep. I could put it on again the next day. That night I just wanted to rest.

***

I have to admit, I spent most of the following morning -- well, I spent _most_ of it out on the street and down at the main Metropolis precinct, digging around for interesting crimes to tell our loyal readers about in gory detail. Perry had taken me aside one time and told me that everyone loves a brutal slaying; I was a little horrified, but my experience as a journalist has taught me he was mostly right. Nothing raises readership like mysterious violent death.

It was good to be normal, to do a normal job. I tried not to think about anything else.

Still, once I had enough material to satisfy Perry's bloodlust, I spent a lot of time staring at my typewriter, trying to assemble a coherent story and hoping Lois would call with information. Just hoping she would call, really. On top of everything else, I had only a few short days to decide what to do; anything else would be unfair to Lois, who was already giving me more slack than I deserved. I could tell her everything; tell her nothing and keep that part of myself hidden; or simply tell her no. Only two of those were really honest, and all three scared the hell out of me.

I finally filed my story, much later than usual, and Perry caught me as I was considering whether to pack it in or call the archives and have Lois paged.

"Took you long enough," he said, indicating the editors, who were scrambling to get my story in.

"Bad day for death?" I tried.

"What's going on with you and Lane?"

"Nothing. Well -- nothing we can file yet."

"She says she wants to byline under her own name. Your influence?"

"What -- no, not mine. She only told me last night."

"Last night, huh?" he raised an eyebrow.

"We had dinner, Perry. We do it all the time."

"I have seen a lot of people come and go through here," he told me. "I've seen reporters trying to make a run at it. The things we learn, things we see -- the hours we keep, only people at the paper understand. What dame wants to marry a guy like you or me? I been married three times, none of 'em took."

"Nobody's saying anything about marriage."

"Which is a different concern," he said darkly.

"What kind of a man do you take me for?" I asked. "I was raised to respect women. I wouldn't -- I wouldn't take advantage of her, Perry."

"Everyone says that in the daylight," he said. "Point is, I've seen men take up with the lady editors, the secretaries, and more often than not it fell through, and it's her reputation that suffers. This is even more important. You're a stand-up fella, Kent, but she's my ace. You do wrong by her, you're the one who'll be packing up your desk, not her."

"I have no intention -- "

"I'm only warning you. If it comes to you or her, it's her."

"Understood," I said, just as the phone rang. Perry waved for me to take it, walking off with a narrow parting glare. "Daily Planet, Kent speaking."

"Hey Smallville, it's me," Lois said.

"Jiminy, am I glad to hear your voice," I said.

"Long day on the beat?"

"Long day in general. How was your luck at the archives?"

"Well, I found two possibilities. I'm coming back to the Planet, put the coffee on?"

"Two?" I asked. "Why didn't you tell me you found one?"

"I wanted to be thorough. It's not like I went and inspected them. Neither of 'em are strong, but I think I've got a link. See you soon."

"Lois -- " I started, but she'd already hung up.

I started some coffee.

When she arrived, she had a file of paperwork tucked under her shirt, and she flipped it out and onto her desk carelessly. "Archive wouldn't let me take the paperwork out or copy it," she said, when I looked at it askance. "Funnily enough, nobody searches a woman when she leaves the office."

"What did you find?" I asked, picking up the file. Zoning, deed of sale; in the back were folded-up drawings of the floor plans. "Why these?"

"It's a long shot," she said. "One's a warehouse on this side of the river, one's an old wartime construction hangar on the other, facing the warehouse. Both owned by small companies with no relation to any of Lex Luthor's corporations. Except," she added, taking out two separate deeds of sale, "the companies _themselves_ were bought by Luthor about a year ago. This one by LexCorp," she waved the warehouse document, "and this one by L-Aero, Luthor's jet engine research company. I remembered reading about L-Aero buying up all the smaller plane construction groups after the war. I put it in the stash file -- I thought if L-Aero got big, Metropolis would be in the market for a new airport."

"Pretty way to hide his land purchases, if that's what he wanted," I said, studying them. "Don't buy the building -- "

"Buy the landlord." She shuffled the paperwork back into the file. "So what now?"

"Batman said he'd know when we found something."

"Which, by the way, I find a little odd and unsettling," she said. "How will he know? Does he have someone watching us?"

I shook my head. "I assume he has his ways. He _was_ a spy."

"I don't like being spied on," she said. "And I'm not sure I enjoy just handing this over to him. Maybe we should go look ourselves."

"This is above our pay grade," I said.

"Bull. This is our pay grade."

"We don't get involved. We report," I insisted. "We're not superheroes, Lois -- "

"You went into combat as a military reporter," she said.

"I had to. We don't have to, here."

She gave me a long, skeptical look.

"How do you know about that, anyway?" I asked.

"You don't think I looked into you when Perry put you in my hands?" she tilted her head. "You were our cub, I wanted to know what made you so special. I read your old dispatches."

"That's public record, it's your right."

"Not quite so public record what happened afterward, though, is it?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Rumor has it you cracked up after VJ-Day. You got sent back. Clark -- look, if that's what this is about, all of this -- " she waved her hand between us, " -- if that's what you need to get sorted out, I get it. I wasn't in combat, but I get having...secrets. Things that might get other people hurt."

"I didn't crack," I said tightly. "And I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No," she agreed. "But I'd like it if you did. And if you have some other reason for wanting us to just pass this information over and expect a vigilante who isn't even from Metropolis to handle this...you can tell me. You can."

"I think we're putting ourselves in unnecessary danger. These men are ruthless, murdering thugs, and they don't care who dies as long as they get what they want."

"No, they don't," said a new voice, and Batman dropped from the rafters.

" _Jesus jumping Christ_ ," Lois yelled, swinging on instinct. He dodged the punch, darting backwards. I almost jumped for him before I realized who it was.

"Strung a little tight there, Lane," he said, as she straightened slowly. "Not that I disapprove."

"How the hell long have you been in the ceiling?" I asked.

"Not long. The Planet's roof has some interesting ventilation arrangements," he replied. "So you've found something."

He held out his hand. Lois scooped the file off the desk and tossed it to me.

"Not until you tell us how you knew," she said. "You can't have been watching me at the archive, and I came straight here from there."

"I knew it wouldn't take you long. Wiretapped Kent's phone," he said. Lois and I both looked at my phone. "The technology's still very crude, but it works well enough."

I made a note for Superman to have a talk with Batman about the privacy of ordinary citizens. I suspected it wouldn't go well.

"This isn't your fight," he added. "Give me the files."

"It's our exclusive," I said, because foolish dedication to getting a story still trumped blind obedience to men who dressed up like bats. "Cut us in on what you're planning first."

"Won't know that till I have the files."

"Superman know you're here?" I asked.

"Not yet. No offense, but your boy's not cut out for the kind of mayhem I intend to cause. Depending on what's in the files," he said pointedly, "I'll call him in."

I glanced at Lois. I still had the files, and Batman didn't look like he was the kind of man to hit someone who hadn't earned it. Not that it would hurt me if he did, but I'd have to fake it.

"The deal was that we got a story and you got what you needed," Lois said. "We give you this information, we want to know when you're going to hit the buildings so we can be ready."

"You trying to get killed?" Batman asked.

"I'm trying to do my job," she replied. "Same as you."

"Kent?" he asked, not looking away from Lois.

"The lady speaks for both of us," I said. "We'll keep out from underfoot. We're already on your side. We'll give you a fair shake in the paper, but you have to give us the chance."

Already I was concocting excuses for why I'd have to leave Lois to witness the takedown on her own. Maybe I could fake being sick.

"If you get killed, it's not on my head," Batman replied. He held out his hand again. "The file, Kent."

Lois sighed and nodded when I looked at her. I put it into his hand a little more forcefully than necessary. He gave me a feral smile, then opened it and paged through.

"The ideal course of action," he said absently, as he scanned the paperwork, "is to catch a shipment coming into Gotham, beat it down to Metropolis, and get them red-handed. Easier said than done, but as long as I know something's happening at the docks, I can get word down to Metropolis and set a trap. There won't be time for me to tell you when, but I can ask Superman to pass on word. _If_ he can. We're not going to delay an assault because we couldn't find the two of you."

"Understood," Lois said, surprising me.

"Good. Be easy to find for the next few days, and there shouldn't be a problem. Do not go look at these places yourself. I mean it," he added, as Lois opened her mouth to protest. "Last thing we need is civilians stomping around, scaring them off."

"Oh, but it's all right for you?" she asked.

"I spent five years as a spy."

"I've spent six as a reporter."

"Lady, do not make me -- "

"Hey, let's all just take a breath," I interrupted. "Lois, he has a point. We're already getting the story, and we have other news to cover as well."

She crossed her arms. "We can make Metropolis very hard for you, Batman."

"Good," he retorted. "I like a challenge."

He tucked the file up under his shirt, the same way Lois had, and climbed onto the sill of an open window. "Play it close. Do your jobs. Let me do mine."

When he was gone, Lois let her arms fall and made a noise of pure frustration.

"I know he's right, but I hate that he's right," she said. "I never met anyone so smug about being a cryptic jerk."

***

Alan called me the next morning, asking me to get in touch with Superman; to tell him when his signal box went, he should go straight to the warehouse site.

"You can give him the address?" he asked.

"He's already got it."

"You spoke to him that recently?"

"I had concerns. Batman's playing a little fast and rough down here, Alan. We had an...encounter last night."

"I think he might know more than he's telling," Alan admitted. "A lot of the guys who never got caught in the war were personal enemies of his."

"So this is a vendetta?"

"Is this on the record?"

"Alan, come on."

"I have to ask, given what you do."

"No. Strictly between us."

"In that case, honestly, I don't know. I think it might be. If it is, then it's a sign of trust that he's telling us at all. Just get the message across before tonight. We'll handle the rest."

"Some people are worried about that."

"There are threats to this country -- to this planet -- that require more than any ordinary person could be expected to handle. You're doing your part just keeping communication open."

"As I assume you are."

"Something like that. Looking forward to your piece on this with Lane, when all this is over."

"Me too," I replied, and rang off.

We heard nothing for the next two days. Lois and I were both jumpy, inattentive; Perry kept giving us the hairy eyeball over how much editing our stories needed lately, but at least he kept his peace. I was beginning to think Superman should investigate the warehouse and hangar himself, Batman's caveat be damned, when my signal box went off in the middle of a house fire.

Not my house fire, thankfully, and not one Superman was needed for; I was just there to report the news. 

"The hell is that?" Jimmy asked, as the whistle shrilled.

"What?" I asked. Jimmy raised his eyebrows.

"The whistling coming from your coat pocket," he replied.

"Oh -- it's -- I need to make a call," I said. "Jimmy, can you cover the story?"

"Seriously?"

"I might be a while. Get some pictures, get the facts, have one of the cubs help you write it up, okay?"

"Yeah!" he said eagerly. "Go, make your phone call."

I was hardly down the mouth of a convenient shadowed alley before I was changing into the uniform, silencing the signal box. Yellow; Batman was on his way.

I knew Lois had the evening off, and she wasn't difficult to locate. When I knocked on the window of her second-floor apartment, she pushed up the glass and leaned out.

"There's a shipment on its way," I said. "Giving you the dirt, as promised."

"At least someone's keeping him honest," she replied, diving back inside for her notebook. "I'll be there soon."

"I can't find Clark," I offered.

"I bet you can't," she replied, which made me frown. "Where are they going?"

"I don't know yet. Head for the warehouse. Keep back and out of sight. If things get ugly, skedaddle, would you?"

"I'm not the skedaddling type."

"Hey -- as a favor," I said. "Please stay safe."

She met my eyes, and for a moment I swore she really saw me.

"I'll do my best," she said. "I'll be there soon."

It's about four hours' drive between Gotham and Metropolis, and DC is further, so I expected to be the first one there; I landed on a nearby rooftop, well out of sight, and kept my eyes on the sky, waiting for Lantern. I assumed he'd bring Diana with him; I didn't expect to see them flying through the air side-by-side. I rose up to meet them, trusting the darkness to hide me.

"Batman's en route," Alan said. "He'll beat the delivery here, but that means we don't know where they're going."

"We can split up when he arrives," I said, and turned to Diana. "I didn't know you could fly."

"Sure you did," she replied with a smile, pointing to the Airman's patch on her jacket. "What about the reporters?"

"Couldn't find Kent," I said. "Lane's on her way. I've asked her to stay back."

"Think she'll listen?" Diana asked.

"Long enough not to tip our hand. After that, I can't make any promises. How long until the delivery arrives?" I asked.

"Two hours minimum," Lantern said. "Until then, waiting is about all we're good for."

Diana reached into her jacket, taking out a pack of cards. "Poker?"

We settled behind a water tower on the roof, playing with matches from Lantern's pocket and a couple of pennies from Diana's. It reminded me of evenings during the war, before a big push: quiet but tense, trying to distract ourselves from what was about to happen. Our first raid as a team, and an important one. I kept an ear cocked for Lois, but when I finally did hear her coming, she stopped the car at least five blocks away, and came the rest of the way on foot. I heard her take up a position behind cover in a nearby alley, but nobody else would have.

"Lane's in place," I said. "Kent's not with her."

"How do you know?" Diana asked. I tapped my ear. "How good is your hearing?"

"Very, very good," I replied. I cocked my head. I could hear another car, above the general noise of Metropolis traffic: the purr of a V16 engine, pushed to its limit, coming south. "I think Batman's getting close, too."

"I'll intercept," Diana said. "I know what his car looks like."

I glanced at Lantern as she zipped away. "He has a V16? That's a racing engine."

"He has all the gizmos," Lantern replied. "Why, what do you drive?"

"Shoe leather," I said. "But I guess a man who can't fly has to compensate somewhere."

The engine cut out, and for a second I lost their location; then Diana landed again at the same time Batman came over the rear ledge of the roof. He gave us a nod and crept to the side that overlooked the warehouse, taking a pair of military-grade binoculars from his belt.

"Delivery's ten minutes out. Barely beat them here -- had to take back-roads so they wouldn't catch me pacing them," he said, peering down at the windows. "Don't know where they're headed. We should split -- "

He stopped, stiffening.

"Diana and I can take the hangar," Lantern said. "You get a red light on your signal box, come give us a hand."

"We may be tied up here," Batman replied. His voice was cold and flat, unusually icy even for him. "They'll be going to the hangar. Superman, you should go with them."

"Why?" I asked. He lowered the binoculars and reached for a coil of line at his waist.

"The warehouse is a trap," he said. "For me."

"What kind of trap?" Diana asked, but I was already peering into the warehouse itself, through the walls and steel girders --

"Oh, my god," I said softly.

"What?" Lantern asked.

"Go," Batman said. "I can handle this."

"I'll stay with him. You don't have much time," I said to the others. "We'll catch up."

They lifted off reluctantly, but at least they went. I knelt next to Batman at the edge of the roof.

"You can see the cage from here?" I asked.

"I can see everything," he replied grimly. "If you're going to stay, make yourself useful. Get me in through one of those broken windows at the top."

"It'll be easier for me to get in and out," I argued. "If anyone's watching -- "

"Nobody's watching. It's a trap," he said. "Look again."

I could see, as he undoubtedly could, the steel cage suspended in the middle of the warehouse floor, twenty feet off the ground. Below it was a large metal vat, full of some liquid -- I hoped water, but I knew better. The chains running from the cage to the ceiling were set into pulleys -- change the weight of the cage, and the chains would rise. The weights on the other ends would drop into the liquid. Sacks of something, tied to the weights, would undoubtedly set off some kind of chemical reaction.

Inside the cage was a half-empty jug of water, a bucket -- and a child.

"How old do you think the kid is?" I asked.

"He's eleven," Batman replied. "His name is Ari."

"What?"

"I told you this was a trap for me." He looked agonized. "I know him."

"I can go in," I said.

"No, I have to -- "

"I can do it. I can fuse the chains to the pulleys so the weight change won't matter. I can get the kid out and get him safe, come back to help with the hangar."

"He doesn't speak any English. He won't go with you."

"Who the hell is this kid?" I asked. He glanced at me.

"He worked for me during the war."

"During the war? He's eleven!"

"Children are useful. He was exceptionally so. He only speaks German. I have to go."

"I speak enough. I was overseas," I added. He gave me a distrustful look. "There's no way you can get him without setting off the trap, and we don't have time to argue. Tell me what to say to him."

His breathing was harsh. "Get him out of here. As far away as possible. Somewhere safe. Tell him to stay there and -- and Drohung will come and find him. Call him Küken. It was what I called him," he added.

"Küken," I repeated. "When you see us leave, get across the river to the hangar. I'll catch up as soon as I can."

"Please -- " he caught my sleeve. I looked back, inquiringly. "If you can't come back, stay with him. Please."

"Of course," I said. "Keep watch, you'll see when we get clear."

He settled down into a crouch, nodding.

 _Chick-bird_ , I thought, rising through the air silently. _What kind of child earns a nickname from the Batman?_

The warehouse was old and decrepit, but the bottom floors had been boarded up carefully. The upper floors had some broken windows, and as I drew closer I could see they were placed just as carefully, as if someone wanted to guide anyone entering illegally. I avoided the broken windows, melting my way through an undamaged one, and drifted silently inside.

The boy was sitting in the cage, arms around his legs; any movement would make it sway, and I could see shiny metal where the greased chain had rubbed against the pulleys. I stopped at the first one and carefully, quietly melted the chain to the pully metal, testing it with a tug before moving to the second one. He noticed me when I was on the third; I looked down and put my finger to my lips. He sat so still.

When I lowered myself along one chain to the cage, I could smell excrement; the bucket, I thought, and wondered if they'd fed the child at all. He was pale, thin and poorly grown, dressed in rags. His black hair was in filthy mats, but he had sharp blue eyes that watched every move I made.

//Stay still and quiet,// I said in rough German. //I'm here to help.//

His voice barely made a sound. //Who are you? Are you here to rescue me?//

//Drohung sent me,// I said, and his face broke into a wide smile.

//He's here?//

//Nearby. I need to get you out of here. Are there guards?//

//They only come once a day.// Suddenly he frowned. //How do I know this isn't a trick?//

Brave kid. //He said to call you Küken.//

//He IS here!// he said, excited. //The cage is locked -- one of the guards has a key -- //

//Not necessary,// I answered, yanking on the bars, widening them just enough for him to fit through. He crawled into my arms, heedless of how high up we were, and I pulled the cape around us both.

//You're the Superman,// he said. //I heard them talking about you.//

//Introductions later. Hold on tight,// I added, as we drifted back towards the window I'd come through. He shivered in my arms, but he didn't complain.

Once we were through, I hovered long enough to see a dark shape on the opposite roof begin to move, then I took off into the Metropolis night, flying as fast as I dared. With the boy in my arms, I couldn't hit high speed; it took us ten minutes to get to my apartment, where I set him on unsteady feet.

//Are you well?// I asked. //Can you wait here? Drohung or I will come back for you, I promise.//

//I can,// he said, looking around. //I'm hungry.//

//Eat anything in the kitchen. And wash your face for him, okay?//

//Yes, I will.//

There was a shrill whistle from my belt; I took out the box and opened it, staring down dumbly. Red -- Lantern and Diana must have decided they couldn't wait any longer.

//I have to go. Stay here,// I repeated, and took off through the open window.

Before I even reached the hangar I could see smoke, and there was a shadow rising through the shattered roof. At first I thought it must be some kind of cloud, but then it moved --

"For the love of Pete," I said, pausing in the air to study it.

The idiots had built a giant robot.

A giant robot with missiles, I corrected, as it lifted an arm and pointed it at me. The robot itself had to be four or five stories tall; the missiles were war-grade. The first one struck full-on, and it took a second to clear my head; as soon as I had my bearings, I dove forward. I could see Batman swinging from a line, one of his grappling hooks embedded in the monster's shoulder. Diana was already swooping down to meet me.

"Started the party without me, I see," I called over the roar of a second missile. She darted forward, grabbbed it, and swung it back around. It hit the monster's other arm, exploding, barely making a dent.

"Worst party I've ever been invited to!" she yelled back.

"What happened?"

"Lantern tried to stop the delivery. I went inside to -- " she dodged a hail of bullets, " -- try and decommission any guards. It went less than well."

"And the giant robot?"

"Grew out of the floor!"

"Want some help taking it down?"

"Be my guest. Son of a bitch, I didn't sign up for Nazi robots!"

I laughed and surged forward, slamming into the center of the machine with all my force. It staggered back but didn't fall; the metal bent inward, cracking.

"Is Ari safe?" Batman bellowed, swinging past us.

"He's fine. Where's Lantern?" I asked, still pushing at the cracks in the metal. Something green was glowing inside it. I felt sick, nauseated, and I pulled back until my vision cleared.

"I'm here," a voice boomed, and I ducked under the machine's flailing arm, retreating.

Behind us, facing the robot, was a giant green...thing. As tall as the robot, not quite opaque, it had razor-sharp teeth and long claws. Diana grabbed Batman by the collar and pulled him off his line as the monster creaked forward, ephemeral green mouth opening in a snarl. Behind the green monster, Lantern had his arm upraised, steadied with his other hand.

"Get inside," the thing roared. "I'll handle this."

"Wait!" Diana yelled, dodging another swinging arm. She scooped Batman off his line, and I darted in front of her as a machine-gun opened fire, taking the bullets she couldn't have deflected, not with her arms full of a struggling Batman. "There's a man up there!"

I looked up. Inside the robot's eyes, there was a face peering down, gleeful and insane.

"Luthor," I breathed. "I'll -- "

"No! Take him!" Diana said, and _threw Batman at me._ I barely caught him. "The man is mine. You two handle the boys inside, before they escape."

Well, who was I to argue?

"This is humiliating," Batman said, as we arrowed for the wrecked hangar.

"Learn to fly," I advised. Inside the shell of the hangar, there were more giant vats like the one in the warehouse, but these were bubbling and roiling, putting off steam and fumes. Above the vats was an extensive network of catwalks, and on one side they were bent and warped. I could see the pit in the floor where the robot had come from. There were men with guns scurrying around between the vats, and unarmed men on the catwalks, trying to reach the exits.

"Can you handle the upper levels?" I asked, setting him down on the catwalk. 

"Not a problem," he growled, drawing nasty-looking blades out of his belt. He cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Made for this. You take the floor."

We could hear screams and rending metal outside, the terrible war-bellow of the green monster, the shriek of the robot's servos as the behemoths did battle. The windows of the hangar were blowing out, glass flying away in clouds, and the air inside stank of chemicals. The ground shook; dust rained from the remaining rafters, spitting when it hit the vats. A man tumbled over into one and disappeared in a swirl of purple flame.

Handling the men inside was a matter of speed more than anything, at least for me. The soldiers were inexperienced, and some of them must have been scientists who'd grabbed weapons -- they didn't seem to know how to fire them. Even the fighters were easily contained with a few bent metal bars to hold them in place; I could haul four or five outside at once, that way.

I was on my third trip outside, trying to keep an eye on Batman working his way along the catwalk at the same time as I watched the fight, when I saw Lantern's green monster surge forward, catching the robot in an arm-lock around its chest. Diana had a rope around the joint where head and chest met, and as I watched she swung around, up through the head, and burst out the top. She had Luthor by the collar, towing him behind her through the air.

With a shudder that made the air vibrate, the robot cracked open. Its remaining artillery began to explode. It tumbled backwards, towards the hangar, and the shockwave hit me hard enough to send me tumbling with it.

I got my bearings and tried to race it to the ground, because there were still men inside -- Batman among them -- but in midair its body exploded. There was a shower of green all around me.

 _Oh_ , I thought, as pain ripped through my chest and legs. _So that's what it feels like to be shot._

Fragments of green stone were raining down, embedding themselves in the concrete with the force of the blast, and at least three of them had sliced right through me -- through the cape, through my skin, through muscle and bone and organs and out the other side.

I fell to the ground over the hangar, scraped my way over a half-broken wall, and landed hard on the catwalk.

And I couldn't get up. My lungs were burning, blood staining my cape and uniform, and one of my legs felt like it was on fire. The air seemed heavy, too thick to breathe. My ears buzzed, all sound muted. I tried a second time to get up and couldn't. Behind me, the wall crumbled. Glass peppered my neck and shoulders.

From where I lay, I could see Batman running along the catwalk towards me, dodging falling debris. There was a man behind him, raising a gun, and I managed to lift an arm to point. He stopped, whirled, and ducked just as the gun went off.

"I remember you," the man called in heavily accented English. German. One of the scientists, then. "You brought the Allies right to my door, _Drohung._ Or is it _Fledermaus?_ "

"Kuhr," Batman growled, crouched on the catwalk, the gun trained on his head. Diana landed next to me, and Kuhr fired a warning shot at her. It bounced off her cuff harmlessly.

"Ah ah," the man said, and through the pain I realized who this was: Kuhr the chemist, the head of Hitler's chemical weapons program. Clearly he and Batman had a history. "One more move and the Bat gets it, beautiful," he told Diana.

"Superman," she hissed. "Now would be a good time to move very fast."

"I can't -- something in the robot -- " I groaned. I could feel my wounds healing, but not fast enough. "Where's Lantern?"

"Passed out, I think. It took the last of his energy to get the robot down." She took a length of rope off her belt, the rope she'd used to get leverage on the robot. Kuhr fired again. She blocked it with a wave of her arm, and it sparked off her cuff. 

"Always wanted to see you on your knees," Kuhr growled. "Come to Metropolis, my benefactor said. Build me a weapon and I'll put the Reich back where it belongs. But all I wanted was to find you."

"You're a war criminal," Batman growled. "You'll be tried and sentenced and I'll watch the rope snap your -- "

"YOU INTERRUPTED MY EXPERIMENTS!" Kuhr roared. "I WAS THIS CLOSE, THIS -- "

There was a sudden jerk, like the world sliding sideways. The catwalk groaned and creaked as Diana pulled hard on one of the struts. I rolled and came up hard against the rail. I wasn't the only one.

Batman had a hand around another strut, and he slipped and skidded but didn't fall. Kuhr staggered, tried to raise the gun again, and lost his balance. He went over the railing in a horrible slow-motion tumble towards one of the chemical vats, screaming in terror.

Then Batman leapt, and I don't think I've ever seen a human being move that fast. It didn't look real, the way he twisted, one arm flinging backwards to shoot a securing line into the remaining brick of the hangar, the other reaching forward, stretching --

He caught Kuhr by the ankle, but the line pulled taut too late; Kuhr went burbling into the acid, head and throat, and it hissed and spattered up onto his suit. Batman yelled in agony as the line jerked, pulling his shoulders wide.

Diana started forward but he was already tightening his arms, pulling Kuhr inch by inch out of the vat. The liquid seemed to cling to him gelatinously before it let him go.

They went down onto the catwalk grating together, Kuhr still screaming. I thought, with the detachment of shock, that it was strange he was still alive. Diana stopped mid-flight, hovering, as Batman pulled himself up and rolled Kuhr onto his back, gloved hands skimming over stained skin.

I could see Kuhr's face turning white, like burning skin does before it reddens; his hair was smoking, but what remained seemed to be a brassy green. He inhaled sharply and we all braced for another scream, but instead he started laughing -- insane, shrill, shrieking laughter.

It wasn't the last time any of us heard that laugh, but it was the first.

"Get him to a doctor," Batman said over the laughter, trussing his wrists behind him with a thin length of twine as Diana landed lightly beside him. "Don't touch his face."

"There are police outside, ambulances on the way," she replied, carefully sliding her arms under his shoulders, lifting him. The laughter had subsided into manic giggles. It wasn't better. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing dislocated. Superman?"

"Fine," I said, finally managing to stand. "Little dizzy. Get Lantern."

"I'm down here," Lantern called from the hangar floor. I could hear him breathing heavily. "Batman, you might want to come down too."

"Little busy trying to round up Nazis," Batman yelled back.

"Could use your help cracking the control panel. Kuhr set the tanks to blow -- they're overheating and about to get volatile. Could make a big mess if everything -- "

"Get out of there!" Batman said suddenly. I could see the tanks steaming. "Lantern, get out now, there's no time!"

Lantern started running for the door, and Batman was running for me; I could feel my power returning slowly, but it wasn't going to be fast enough to fly either of us out of the building.

"Window," he said grimly, grabbing my arm as he passed. We staggered along the warped catwalk together.

"The fall -- " I began.

"Won't kill you. You go through first."

"I can't promise -- "

"Not looking for promises right now," he snarled.

I turned, grabbing the edge of my cape, slinging it over his shoulders; it would be at least some protection when we burst through the glass, and I was fairly sure if I landed first and he landed on me, we'd both survive.

We hit the window at the same time the building exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information that Alan gives Clark about his homeworld is, I have to admit, heavily influenced by the way Mithen portrays Kryptonian culture in her excellent AU fics **[From This Day Forward](http://jij.livejournal.com/264315.html)** and **[Stranger in a Strange Land](http://mithen.livejournal.com/154114.html)**. The medal Clark wears has no true analogue in canon, but is a stand-in for the crystal that builds his Fortress of Solitude in many of the canons. At the time of writing I couldn't find Clark's bio-mother's surname (in some canons she never had one, being of a lower caste than Jor-El) so I gave her one; I'm since told it is Lor-Van.
> 
> We have also never been given Joker's true name in many of the canons. Joseph Kuhr is an alias Joker has used in the past. (Joe Kuhr, get it?) This particular iteration of the Joker calls back to certain canons where Batman knocks him into a vat of acid, and is thus indirectly at fault for his existence.


	4. Chapter 4

When the building exploded behind us, the shockwave lifted me off my feet and threw me through the window, and we landed hard on the other side. We rolled, tumbled through wreckage, and finally came to a stop not far from an unexploded missile. I scrambled up and dragged him away just as Lantern caught up with us. Diana landed on her feet nearby, running forward. I was vaguely aware of sirens in the background, shouting men, running feet.

"Are you all right?" she asked, as I eased Batman down. He was unconscious, and there was a choking wheeze to his breathing I didn't like. "Hera and Artemis, is he -- "

"No," I said, scanning him, my vision still flickering in and out. "He's just had the wind knocked out of him. There's no internal injuries, no broken bones...I can't see through his cowl," I said, frustrated.

"Can you normally?" Diana asked, eyes wide.

"No -- I mean...x-ray vision," I said, and Green Lantern swore. "I don't use it much or mention it because it makes people think I'm a peeping tom."

"I can float him to a hospital," Lantern offered.

"Yeah, that'd go over well," Diana drawled. She reached for the cowl, and Lantern and I both protested, but it was too late. She'd already flipped it back off his face, tugging it behind his head.

And there we were, looking into the face of Bruce Wayne.

"Son of a bitch," Lantern said admiringly, then looked hastily at Diana. "Pardon my language."

"Don't worry, it's just what I was thinking," she replied. "Is that who I think it is?"

"You have to admit, nobody would suspect," Lantern replied as I scanned his head. There would be time for surprise later.

"He's fine," I said, relieved. "Concussed, looks like. He'll have a hell of a shiner and a headache in a few hours."

"The hood's lined with something," Diana said, inspecting it. "Some kind of metal."

"Lead foil," I answered. "I can't see through lead."

"How would he know that?"

"Batman knows a lot of things he's not supposed to," I said, steadying his head with my hands. "Put the cowl back on."

"Why?"

"Because in about ten minutes the press is going to be all over this. The police are already looking, and Lane's around here somewhere," I said. I tilted my head at where the recently-arrived Metropolis police were staring at our huddle.

"Where do we take him?" Lantern asked, as Diana eased the cowl back over his head. "You got a safe house around here?"

I glanced at them both. I knew who they were. And now, we all knew who Batman was.

I'd lectured Batman on trust; time to soldier up and put my money where my mouth was.

"I have a place," I said.

"I'll carry him," Diana offered, easing him into her arms. He coughed, seemed to stir for a moment, and then passed out again, face buried in her shoulder. "You lead."

I straightened, glancing back at the warehouse, the fire lighting the sky. It bounced off police cars and arriving ambulances, fire trucks as well.

And there was Lois, frantically scribbling notes, talking at the same time, demanding something of one of the officers. She gestured at the fire, and then looked up squarely at me. Our eyes locked.

Then she lifted a hand and flicked her fingers. _Shoo._ It was so Lois that I couldn't help laughing as I lifted off.

***

When we returned to my apartment -- landing on the roof and taking the stairs down -- we found Ari, dead to the world, curled up in the chair next to the open window. He was shivering in his sleep. He'd washed the grime off his face and hands, but his hair was still a filthy crow's nest.

"Where are we?" Diana asked, Batman -- Bruce Wayne -- still held in her arms.

"Clark Kent's apartment. We're safe here," I said.

"Does Clark Kent know that?" Lantern asked.

"Bedroom's through that way," I told Diana, pointing towards the open door. Lantern raised an eyebrow at me.

"I don't mean to be nosy, but how do you know where Clark Kent's bedroom is?" he asked, as Diana took care of Batman. I busied myself covering Ari with a blanket and moving the chair away from the window, closing it tightly. He burrowed into the warmth with a satisfied sigh.

"I would think it would be obvious," I said. "I'm Clark Kent."

Lantern blinked at me.

"No you're not," he said.

"Yeah, Alan, I am," I replied, reaching into my uniform. I pulled the chain up, off and over my head, setting the medal down on the table. My glasses were sitting there too, on top of a book, and I put them on. He rubbed his eyes as if he'd been looking at something bright. He muttered something about goddamn telepaths, then twisted his ring slightly and looked back up.

"Well. I guess that explains how Kent was always able to get in touch with you," he said, as I began taking off the cape and jacket underneath. I was still sore, and the cape had half a dozen holes in it, but they were visibly shrinking. "Thanks for telling us."

"Didn't have much choice. Batman's got a secret lair in Metropolis, but I don't," I replied. I fingered a bloody hole in the front of my shirt. Exit wound. The skin under it was already healed over, but still tender. "And before you ask, because everyone else in this city has, I didn't have these powers during the war."

He held up his hands. "I didn't have the ring either, I know the drill. Huh. Nice place, by the way."

"Thanks. How is he?" I asked, seeing Diana emerging from the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She looked at me, confused.

"Superman is Clark Kent. You remember, I told you about him," Alan said. Diana nodded slowly.

"This business of heroes having day jobs is a little ridiculous, don't you think?" she asked Alan. "You're a secret agent, he's a reporter, poor Batman's a millionaire industrialist; am I the only one with the metaphorical testicles to fight bare-faced?"

"I don't wear a mask," I protested.

"You might not think you do," she replied.

"We can table this for later," Alan said. "Batman?"

"Resting. Athena, you should see his scars."

"Pass," Alan answered. "We need to get back to the combat zone. They'll want to know what happened."

"Why?" Diana asked. "We did our part."

"They need our statements. We have to do this right, make sure we cooperate with the locals. Especially right now -- this is the first time they've seen us together."

"One of us should stay," I said. "There's a wounded man and a child, they shouldn't be left alone."

"You're most qualified," Diana replied. "You stay."

"Why am I most qualified?"

"You've met Wayne, haven't you?"

"Met is a polite way of putting it." I rubbed my chin. "But I can probably help the most if there are complications."

"Then you stay," she said. "Lantern?"

"We'll come back to check on you, if we can," he told me. "Keep them safe."

And in a rush of air, they were gone.

I went to the bedroom and looked in; in the darkness, Batman's skin was pale. Diana had taken off his cowl, cape, and boots, and tied a strip of torn-off cape around a wound on his arm. His face, relaxed in sleep, made him look younger; I'd always thought Batman must be much older than I was, but Bruce Wayne had barely a handful of years on me.

I scanned him again, found nothing new to worry about, and shut the door.

I made some coffee, sat down, and took off my glasses, hanging the medal around my neck again. I fell asleep at the table, one ear still cocked for their heartbeats -- Ari's quick and light, like a bird's, and Bruce's slower, deeper.

***

They slept through the night, which was just as well; Wayne didn't even wake when I crept into the room to get a suit to change into, one that wasn't bloody and torn.

I was coming back from getting a couple of pastries for breakfast from the little bakery around the corner when he finally came stumbling out of the bedroom. There wasn't much of the playboy about him, but not much of Batman either; bare-faced and damp, he was wearing a pair of my trousers and a whole life's history of scars on his bare chest. He had a bruise on his jaw and a shallow scrape just under one ear, and the wound on his arm had been neatly re-bandaged with another strip of cape. I held a finger to my lips and pointed to Ari, curled in the chair.

Wayne knelt next to the boy and shook him gently. Ari's eyes opened and his whole face lit up; he threw his arms around Wayne's neck and stuttered out a few surprised words.

//You came for me! I knew you'd come.//

//What happened?// Wayne asked, holding the boy tightly. //When I left you were safe.//

//They came and found me -- they knew about you -- they found out you'd rescued me. They brought me to America because they knew you'd come if you heard...//

//Easy, easy,// he said, leaning back. A genuine smile crossed his face, fond and indulgent. //Stop for breath, chick-bird.//

//Don't ever leave me behind again,// the boy pleaded. //I missed you, I missed you -- //

//I know, I'm sorry. I thought you'd be better off where you were.//

//No. I want to stay with you.//

//Well, we'll discuss that later. Shh, Ari, it's all right,// he added, as the boy clutched his shoulders again. //Look how you've grown. You must be a foot taller now.//

Ari nodded into his shoulder, not letting go. Wayne's eyes drifted up to find me watching, and I glanced away.

"I don't mean to pry," I said, fiddling with the bag of pastries.

He looked down at Ari. //Chick-bird, this is Clark Kent. He's a friend. Say hello to Mr. Kent.//

//Hello, Mr. Kent,// Ari said shyly, finally releasing him to look up at me.

//I have breakfast,// I offered. Ari glanced up at Wayne, who nodded and gave him a little push. I gave Ari the bag and he took it to the table nearby, devouring a doughnut with gusto. Wayne and I stared at each other.

"So," he said finally. "Guess I'm busted."

"Necessary, I'm afraid," I replied, as he went to where Ari was sitting, dropping into the chair next to the boy. "You were unconscious. We had to make sure your skull wasn't fractured."

"We?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I suppose Superman just conveniently deposited me and my protégé in a reporter's apartment and expected you'd keep quiet?"

I took off my glasses and stared at him. He stared back. I tried to project _Superman_.

After a moment, he groaned and rested his head on his arms. Ari glanced at him, glanced at me, and grinned.

//Superman,// he said. //I like him, Drohung.//

"How did I miss that?" Wayne asked, voice muffled.

"Everyone does," I said, shrugging.

"The others know too," he said. "About me."

"Yeah. They send their good wishes. They're taking care of things."

"Great." He sat up, but he still stared down at the table. "Seven years of anonymity up in smoke, and Clark Kent is Superman."

//Do you want this?// Ari asked, offering him a cherry danish. He shook his head, and Ari crammed half the thing into his mouth at once.

"On the up side, it means I get the anonymity concept," I said, trying to cheer him up. "This is one story I'm content not to break, Mr. Wayne."

"Oh, I think we've moved into Bruce and Clark territory, don't you?" he asked. "You got any coffee?"

"I think it's a good thing," I said, going to the kitchen. I brought back two cups of coffee, guessing that he took it black. He sipped it cautiously, then took a healthy slug. "I told Lantern and Diana who I was. We should know how to reach our...alternate selves, if necessary. And now it's all out in the open, at least among us."

Bruce watched me over the rim of the coffee cup. Finally, he turned to Ari.

//Go up to the roof,// he said. //Look all you like. Memorize what you see. Mr. Kent and I need to talk. Come back in half an hour, yes?//

//Yes, sir,// Ari said brightly, and crawled out the window. I looked at Bruce. He shrugged.

"Kid likes to climb," he said.

"You're good with him."

"He's a smart boy. But I suspect you wanted to talk without little ears around, even little ears that don't speak English."

"What's the kid's story?"

"His family was Jewish -- they were in hiding, and they were found out. The family was killed; Ari's the only one who survived," he said. "He was clever and full of anger, which were qualities I needed at the time. Near the end of the war I left him with a Jewish family in Switzerland. I thought he'd be safe there."

"Someone knows he worked for you."

"I intend to fix that," he said darkly. "But I'm much, much more interested in you, at the moment. Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for the Planet, who couldn't tell me as much as I wanted to know about Superman. I think you owe me a story, too." 

"How much do you know about me?" I asked.

"Just what Lantern told me. You're an orphan, don't know where you came from. He thinks you came from outer space. He thinks that little bauble you wear probably has some answers, and I agree, but _someone_ wouldn't let me look at it."

"It's mine. And that's only part of it. You want the story, the real one?"

A cynical smile crossed his face. "Do I."

"A while back there was a meteor shower over Kansas. Not just lights in the sky -- a lot of rock fell to earth. Couple of cows were killed, a few barns caught fire. Jon Kent and his wife Martha went out to help. All night they worked the bucket brigades, chased down some horses that had got free. Around dawn, when it was all over except the cleanup, they headed back to their farm. Outskirts of Smallville, Kansas."

"Lois said you came from Smallville. I thought she was joking."

"It's a nice town. Good people. Anyway, coming back to the farm they saw smoke coming up from one of the fallow fields, the one Jon was going to plant corn in next spring. They went out to make sure nothing was on fire, and they found a metal capsule, about so big," I said, framing its dimensions with my hands. "Inside was a baby, wrapped in a red blanket. Didn't know where he came from. Didn't care. Martha couldn't have kids -- doctor had said so already -- and here was a baby dropped straight from God for all they knew."

"So you've always had your power."

"No. They raised me like any ordinary kid. Told me I was adopted when I was ten -- they didn't say from where. Didn't matter. They were my parents, I was their son. I grew up working the land like Pa, school in the winter, church on Sundays. There wasn't anything strange about me, other than I liked reading more than most of the farm kids. We made it through the Depression all right; didn't get hit as hard as some, anyway. Left school, thought I'd spend my life tilling the land the way Pa was. War changed all that."

"Changed everything," he said quietly.

"When the war was over -- that's when it all started for me. I started being able to...do things. That's when they told me the real story for the first time. Couldn't stay in Smallville. It felt...suffocating. It felt dead. So I came to Metropolis, got a job, thought I'd just live my life. But I had a call, like preachers are supposed to get, only...for this. I had a call. No reason to give one man all this power unless he put it to use."

He studied me, blue eyes sharp, missing nothing. "Bet you were a Boy Scout."

"Your turn," I replied, ignoring the remark. "I heard about you during the war."

"I gave you a story already."

"You gave me his. Give me yours."

He sighed, looking down at the table. "America joined the war not long after I took control of Wayne International. I was twenty-one. I thought I was going to save the world. We needed factories badly, machines for war. We were way behind the Germans. Japanese got the drop on us. The Allies needed guns and spies. I could give them both. I got the factories up and running in England, and then I offered my services to the OSS. Four years I spent sneaking around. You get a taste for it."

"Some do, maybe."

"I did. I picked up Ari and he helped me for a while, but war's no place for a child. I left him where I thought he'd be safe. War ended, I came back...thought I could do some good in Gotham."

I narrowed my eyes. I didn't need to see his pulse to know he wasn't telling me something.

"Nobody just up and decides to fight like that. Something made you."

He took a sip of coffee thoughtfully.

"There's a rhyme in Gotham," he said. "A children's rhyme. You learn it wherever you are, whoever you are; it's in the air somehow."

_Beware the Court of Owls  
That watches all the time  
Ruling Gotham from a shadow perch  
Behind granite and lime.  
They watch you at your hearth  
they watch you in your bed  
Speak not a whispered word of them  
Or they'll send the Talon for your head._

"But there's another rhyme too," he continued, eyes closing.

_Beware the Court of Owls  
But fear one monster more  
The Bat-man lurks in darkest corners  
Behind windows and doors  
He flutters through the night  
He hides under the eaves  
He eats the owls that try to roost  
And into your room at night he creeps._

"Cheery stories you have in Gotham," I said.

"We're realists, of a sort. Anyway, the Bat-man had been a legend as long as the Owls, long before I was born. He suited me more, so I took his name. I told you once. Fear is all some people understand."

"That doesn't explain it, though," I said. "What made you do it. When was your calling, Bruce?"

"I was eight," he said. "About the same age Ari was when his parents were killed."

" _Eight?_ "

"Do you know what happened to my parents?"

I nodded. "Everyone knows that. They were murdered."

"By a punk who wanted my father's wallet and my mother's pearls. I saw them die. I learned life didn't last long. It could end at any time. They never caught him, and I learned that life was unfair and cruel. I knew then that there was no point to my life, and certainly no point to my death, unless I used what I'd learned to make sure -- "

His fists clenched.

"I thought when the war came I could...purge it. I could do something that would let me be my own man. But -- did you ever see any of the camps?"

I shook my head.

"I did. Two of them."

"Kuhr said something...?"

"Josef Kuhr. You heard of him?"

"I heard enough."

"He's a chemist. He has no empathy, no conscience, no soul. He used the camps as testing grounds. He was trying to work up a way to aerosolize typhus, to stop the Allied troops. He was close, I think, when I managed to get a unit to the camp he was holed up in. When the cavalry arrived, they liberated the camp, but he got away. I thought he was dead."

"He may be, now."

"I hope not."

I raised my eyebrows.

"I believe in justice. I have to. It might not be your idea of justice, but Gotham isn't Metropolis. Anyway, I won't kill; not my end of the job. I want to see him tried before he's executed. Every monstrous thing he did should be held up to the light, shown for what it was." He sighed. "After Kuhr...after that camp I knew that _nothing_ would ever be enough to make me stop. If men could do that to one another...there was no hope unless I forced hope. So I do, every night. I terrorize and fight and I force hope down the choking throat of my city, hope that we can find our way back to real justice. And I will until I die."

There wasn't much I could say to that.

"Guess I'm done with the Dumb Bruce routine, at least around you," he added lightly, after a pause. "Relief, in a way. He's exhausting to maintain."

"Lois?" I asked, because I had to. "You two seemed...close. For a while."

"She was using me. Don't think I wasn't aware. She's a remarkable woman; I was using her too. I'm not interested in a romance with her. Anyway, she talked about you a lot," he added. "And then she called you. I had my suspicions about Luthor even before he tried to buy the Planet, but when I heard you tell her he was there -- "

"You were listening?"

" _Vigilante._ "

"That's no excuse!"

"I don't have to excuse my behavior to you. Especially since technically I'm your boss."

There was a long silence while I worked this out.

"You bought the Planet," I said.

"Couldn't let Luthor have it. Besides, it's a solid investment. Everyone needs the news." He gave me a small, genuine smile. "Nothing will change. What the hell do I know about newspapers? Perry White's the only one who knows it's me who owns the place and he's not telling. Well, and now you. For a newsman, you're sure keeping a lot of secrets, Clark."

"Sometimes it's about knowing what not to print."

Bruce turned towards the window, looking out at Metropolis. "Do you remember when we met, I asked you why Superman chose Metropolis, not Gotham?"

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"Metropolis is your home. And I'm the son of Gotham. My family -- on both sides they were city founders, men and women who tried to do right by it. I try to do the same. But maybe Lantern and Diana are on to something. The world's changing. It's not enough to be the champion of the local village anymore. We're going to have to look at a bigger picture."

"I think we've made a pretty good start, don't you?"

He nodded. "I suppose so, but it's not over yet. They knew enough to use Ari against me. He's not safe, not until we know the whole ratline's wrapped up. Hopefully the Metropolis boys will roll on anyone left in Gotham. I may need to stay in the city for a day or two."

"Metropolis isn't Gotham, though. The police here aren't going to let you just walk in and question anyone."

"Then I won't tell the police," he said. Before I could reply, he rose and went to the window, leaning out, twisting to look up. //Ari! You can come back down now,// he called. I guessed that was the end of our conversation.

//But I haven't seen everything yet!// Ari called back.

//Ari Siegel, come down right now, young man!//

There was a yelp, and then Diana was descending with Ari squirming in her arms. She ducked quickly through the window. I heard Alan on the stairs, and he came through the door while Bruce fussed over Ari in German, dusting him off and ordering him to be polite to Fraulein Diana and Herr Scott.

"Is anyone eating this?" Alan asked, taking the last doughnut out of the bag.

"And does anyone in this godsforsaken League have any coffee?" Diana added. I got up to pour her a cup. "Have you seen the paper yet? We made the front page."

"I did!" I said, pleased.

"Did you see who got the byline?" Bruce asked, studying the newspaper intently.

"I can make a wild guess," I answered. He held it up. I hadn't checked the byline before, and now I did: _Lois Lane and Clark Kent._

"Strange." I frowned. "Usually whoever files gets sole credit."

Bruce tapped her name with a finger.

"Oh! Yes. She said she'd do that," I told him. "She said -- "

_I'm tired of being Louis, and I'm tired of not getting what I want._

"Well, Louis outlived his usefulness," I said awkwardly, blushing.

"Wait -- Lane's a _woman?_ " Alan asked.

"Problem?" Diana said, crossing her arms.

"No! Just -- you didn't tell me she was a woman," he said to me accusingly.

"Not my place to tell. Anyway, she looks snappy in a suit," I replied. "How'd she do, is it good press?"

"It's decent enough. She kept up her end of the bargain, anyway. Does she know who you are?" Bruce asked.

"No. Not...not yet," I said, guilt filling me suddenly. I'd asked for a few days, and I was perilously close to my limit. And I hadn't shown for the story last night...

"Are you going to tell her?" Bruce asked.

"I don't know that it's anyone's business but mine," I said. "I wouldn't tell her who you all are."

"Have you considered you're putting her in danger?" Alan asked.

"You haven't met Lois Lane, have you?" Bruce said, amused.

"I'm still sorting things out," I said. "Yesterday only my parents knew what I did. Now four other people do. Anyway, we need to decide our next move."

"Not before you have all the information," Alan said, exchanging a glance with Diana. "Luthor escaped."

" _What?_ " Bruce and I asked in unison. Ari startled. Bruce reached out, touching his shoulder reassuringly.

"I had him," Diana said. "I tied him up. Then the explosion -- I thought the police took care of him, but he must have fled. I made the knots tight. I don't know how he escaped. Hopped away, for all I know."

"Not your fault," I said. "Clearly he's resourceful. If even one of his guards got away, they could have taken him somewhere safe."

"Well, they'll find him," Alan said. "Diana and I gave our testimony to the police. They're looking for him now. The man you pulled out of the acid -- "

"Kuhr," Bruce growled.

"He's alive. He's in a secure wing at the hospital. Twenty-four hour surveillance. They don't know if he'll make it yet. The rest of them are under federal watch. They've already matched up a couple of them with known and wanted war criminals."

Bruce bent his head and exchanged a few urgent words with Ari. When he looked up again, he was pale.

"Ari was Luthor's trap for me," he said. "He says only a few guards saw him, but Luthor knows who he is. Ari's not safe until we find him."

"I can help with that," I said, heading for my uniform.

"It's police business now," Alan called, and I paused. "Look, the story's out in the paper. Everyone but Luthor is secure and if they can't find him, you can join in the search, but you should give them a chance first. The big guns are our job, not the day to day. The fastest way to piss off the entire world is to barge in like we're some kind of lords of dominion. We have to let people handle people."

I stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"This is one of the reasons Diana and I planned the League," he said. "It's about communication and _control_. We have to be controls for each other."

"That man ran Nazis through my city! _My city!_ " I said.

"And he'll get his."

"Clark," Bruce said quietly. "Lantern's right."

"What? You just said -- "

"I can protect Ari. We're the Justice League, not the Revenge League. And I'm pretty sure you picked that name."

"They can have the day," I said. "If they can't find him -- "

"Then you can ask to help," Alan said firmly.

"Who died and made you leader?" I asked sharply.

He held up his ring. "You think I got this in a Cracker Jack box, soldier? I inherited it. The Corps made me responsible for preventing threats because my predecessor did die -- that's how it works. You and Diana are terrifyingly powerful, and Bruce can run rings around all of us intellectually. I have to make sure you aren't threats too. So you come to heel to the League, or this gets very ugly, very fast."

I glanced at Diana. She shrugged. "He's right. We have a lot of power."

"Then what do we do?" I asked.

"I go back to DC with Diana," he said. "Bruce takes the boy back to Gotham. You stay here. We clean up the fallout from last night and we get back to normal. The police know to contact Diana through her embassy if they want to speak to the League. They'll need a statement from you and Bruce eventually."

"Keep the boy out of it," Bruce said, clearly avoiding using Ari's name the same way Alan was.

"We haven't mentioned him," Diana replied.

"Good. I need to work out what to do with him."

"I'll manage anything that needs managing from DC," Alan continued. "And then we handle our business like we have been, until something comes up we can't handle alone. At least now we can call each other without worrying about secret identities and masks."

Silence settled over the room. They looked as if they were waiting for me, as if even Lantern's power couldn't stop me if I decided to cause trouble.

"I should get to the newsroom," I said reluctantly. Alan nodded.

"Until we meet again, then," Diana said. "It was an honor fighting with all of you."

Diana and Alan left, heading for the roof, which at least offered some cover when they took off. Bruce looked thoughtful.

"I need to buy a car," he announced.

"Sorry, what?" I asked.

"Nothing flashy. Besides, it's a very Bruce Wayne stunt to pull, barging into Metropolis and buying a car on a whim. I'll say I crashed the one I was driving. Have to get the boy back to Gotham without getting noticed, and Batman's wheels are a little conspicuous in the daytime. I'll pick up something this morning, get us both to Gotham, come back and bring the other car home tonight," he said, sounding distracted. "My butler can get him settled in."

"He's staying?"

"For now, at least. You want the car when I'm done with it?"

"I'm sorry, are you offering to give me a car?" I asked.

"Well, you can't fly everywhere," he drawled. "Pay me for it if you want, but it won't dent my income much. Can Ari stay here until I get back?"

"Sure," I said. "But I do have to go to work. Take my keys. Leave 'em under the mat when you're done."

He shook his head. "Boy scout."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first rhyme Bruce recites in this chapter comes from a recent Batman comics event, the Court Of The Owls, in which a mysterious Illuminati-type group appears to have been running Gotham almost since its inception, aided by chosen warriors known as Talons. The second rhyme is mine; while there is no firm canonical evidence that Bat-man existed in Gotham as a mythological opponent to the (thought-to-be) mythological Owls, there are multiple canons where it's implied that Batman was an urban legend before Bruce took up the cowl.
> 
> Bruce Wayne totally did **[buy the Daily Planet](http://i948.photobucket.com/albums/ad322/mithen_lj/SupermanBatman/Sup168-4.gif)** that one time, btw. (You can read more of the arc **[here](http://mithen.livejournal.com/96200.html)** if you're interested.)


	5. Chapter 5

When I got to the newsroom, Lois was already there. I wondered if she'd even gone to bed the night before.

"Hey!" she called, when she saw me. "You see the morning edition?"

"Yes," I answered, coming to lean on her desk. "Congratulations. Getting any hate mail yet?"

"Post hasn't been delivered. But I meant, did you see I gave you co-byline?"

"Sure. Thanks for that. Why'd you bother? You know I wouldn't have cared. You filed the story."

"Yeah, you did disappear on me last night. But you did a lot of legwork, don't sell yourself short. Besides, you said you'd back me. Sharing a byline is a good way to start. We make a good team," she added, and gave me a _look_.

"About that," I said. She raised an eyebrow. "Let's...let's talk."

"Roof?"

"Yeah," I replied, relieved.

From the roof of the Planet building, Metropolis was spread out before us in the morning light, the river gleaming on one side, the coast glittering in the distance. I could almost see the cratered wreckage of the hangar. Lois leaned against the guardrail. "Wow me, Smallville."

"Could you maybe come away from the edge?" I asked. She rolled her eyes but stepped away, crossing her arms.

"Happy?"

"Thrilled," I sighed. "Lois, look, I -- "

I hadn't even decided, I didn't know what I was going to say, just that I had to say, because the previous night had been too public, too close to the bone, for me to just let it pass.

"I've been lying to you," I blurted. "Not about -- us, about...who I am. It's been this big...lie. I want you to know the truth."

She smiled. "Took you long enough."

"I -- what?" I asked.

"Come on, Smallville. I mean, at first I thought everyone must know and they were just being discreet, but people seem to genuinely not get it." She came forward slowly. "I finally decided either whatever whammy you use on people wasn't working on me, or you didn't want it to, or maybe I'm just that good. I prefer to believe the latter, but well...I'm me."

"Are we talking about the same thing?" I asked warily.

"Oh, I think so." She reached up and took off my glasses. Her smile was sunny, warm. "Hello, Superman."

"Why -- why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"Why didn't you?" she replied pointedly, then went on before I could speak. "No, I understand. The same reason I was Louis Lane for years. I wanted to respect your privacy. And thank you for wanting to tell me. I was hoping you would. I tolerate your quirks -- "

"Quirks!" I said, indignant.

" -- but I wouldn't tolerate being cut out of this, not if we were going to be something more than partners."

"You knew," I repeated, trying to wrap my head around it. "How long?"

"A long time. First time I saw a picture of Superman, I knew; I'd already known you for what, a few months? I wondered -- all that power, and you chose to be so good, you chose to be a reporter and be a hero on the side. I knew I wouldn't be able to settle for anyone less." She offered the glasses to me, then kissed me while my hands were occupied. "I was worried about you last night."

"I'm fine."

"And Batman?"

"Resting. He'll recover."

"Good. I'm glad you had some backup. So that's the Justice League, huh?"

"I think it'll work," I said. "I think it's good."

"Good, because I called them that in the story this morning."

"I saw. And you're fine with the Superman...situation?"

"Wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't. I can't say I'm nuts about what it'll probably mean, but..." she shrugged. "A reporter's life isn't exactly stable. So -- yes, right? Yes to me, to this?"

I nodded, leaning in to kiss her again. "Yes," I said, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Very much yes."

We didn't stay up there long; we couldn't, and even though we hurried back down, all hell was already breaking loose in the newsroom. The other papers had finally seen the Lois Lane byline and were raising a fuss. We knew pretty much everyone in the news business, and they mostly knew Lois was a woman, but they all wanted an official comment. Was it a typo? Was she retiring, or just losing Louis? Was she going to be moving to society columns and fashion reports? Was it Miss Lane or Mrs. Lane or was Lane really her last name?

When they couldn't get her (she left her phone off the hook) they started calling me, until I had to leave my line open as well. Perry had her write an editorial for the following day, and I could see the readership numbers rising in his mind. Lois Lane's story was going to sell us out. A friend of a friend who worked in book publishing was interested in an autobiography. The battle at the hangar might be the news of today, but tomorrow's was going to be all Lois.

"Are you okay?" I asked as we left for the day, taking a side-exit to avoid the folks camped out at the front. Nice of them, I thought, to politely leave us an exit. Metropolis had courteous reporters.

"Sure," she said, leaning into me. "You think we'll be mobbed if we go out to dinner?"

"I'll brave it if you will."

"Jimmy did a portrait of me to run in the paper tomorrow. Might be the last chance we get for an uninterrupted meal for weeks."

"Deco Club? My treat?" I offered.

"Sure. You owe me," she said.

"How do you figure that?"

"Superman."

"Ixnay, Lane," I replied. "Besides, you knew all along, so I figure you owe me too. I'm just being a gentleman."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Smallville."

When we got to the club, the maitre'd smiled at us. "Mr. Lane. Such a pleasure, as always."

"Miss is fine, Rudy," she answered, squeezing my hand.

"Indeed. I didn't wish to ask. Please, come with me. No reservation required."

"Thanks," she said, as he bowed low. "Can you get us a table somewhere private?"

"Of course! Right this way."

***

I came home that evening, after a very...extended kiss at my front door, to find Ari and Bruce gone, as expected. There was a set of keys sitting on my dining room table, with a note in Bruce's handwriting telling me where the car was parked. I reminded myself to find out how much it had cost.

The next morning, I arrived at the Planet to find Lois already there, staring angrily at the early police report in the paper. I leaned over her shoulder, giving her a sidelong smile, and she tensed further.

"What?" I asked.

"The police found Luthor. He was on a yacht off Manhattan when they pulled him in. Someone on the overnight desk managed to get it before we went to press," she said, holding it out to me. I stared down at it for a while before the meaning sunk in. "It came in after we left, it must have."

_Lex Luthor, arrested in connection with the hangar fire and war criminal arrest in west Metropolis on Tuesday night, has been questioned and released by the police. While Mr. Luthor declined to comment, the District Attorney's office has issued a statement saying that Mr. Luthor could not have been in the vicinity of the fire, as multiple witnesses have come forward to testify that they were with Luthor on his yacht at the time of the incident._

"He's paying someone. Possibly everyone," Lois said. "No way they did all this digging between last night and this morning. I'm going to go snoop around the DA's office."

"I need to -- " I looked up, trying to see who was in the office.

"Go. I'll tell Perry you're sick," she said.

"Are you sure? Today's going to be worse than yesterday for you -- "

"I can handle it. Do what you need to do. Don't do anything stupid," she added, as I made for the phone on my desk.

Alan answered on the second ring. "Kent. Did you see -- "

"I saw. You hear from Bruce?"

"Not yet."

"We need to meet. Wayne Manor," I said. "Soon as you can. I'll let him know we're coming."

"Safer to have it here, maybe?"

"Bruce can't leave Ari, and he definitely can't bring him along."

"Damn. Of course not. Diana's already on the warpath; she's furious they're taking Luthor's word over hers. I'll find her."

"Thanks. I'll see you soon."

I tried Wayne Manor next, and got endless ringing. No good.

I felt like a heel, abandoning the Planet and leaving Lois to the tender mercy of the reading public, but she'd said she could handle it. By the time she was telling Perry I was out sick, I was already circling Gotham, coming in to land near the front door of Wayne Manor, in a clutch of convenient shrubbery that could conceal me as I changed. I didn't know how much his butler knew, but I did know anyone who saw Superman walking into the place was bound to tell stories.

I was raising my hand to knock when the door was flung open and I was faced with a tall, imposing, elderly man carrying a shotgun.

"No comment," he said, in a dry, upper-class English accent.

"Uh -- sir, I'm -- "

"I know who you are, Mr. Kent. Mr. Wayne has no comment. On anything."

"Alfred! Jesus, Alfred, it's okay," a voice called from the hallway, and Bruce arrived, pushing deftly past the butler with the gun. "For the love of God, put the gun away. Kent's all right."

"I tried to call," I said, as Bruce hustled me through the door and into a palatial entryway. I heard the gun being set down.

"My apologies, Mr. Kent," Alfred said, still utterly calm. "Will you be having any other unexpected guests, Master Bruce?"

He glanced at me. I nodded. "Alan Scott, and Ambassador Diana."

"Very good, sir. I shall leave the gun unless it's warranted. Tea, Mr. Kent? Coffee?"

"You stick by the door," Bruce said. "I can fix Kent a cup of coffee."

We ended up in a large drawing-room, full of antiques and knick-knacks and books. There was a portrait of a young boy on one wall, sitting in a large chair, his hand resting on an old-fashioned leather doctor's bag.

"That's me," Bruce said, noticing my gaze. "I was about five. My mother...liked portraits."

"Unusual prop," I remarked.

"They wanted me to be a doctor. Life intervened," he said. "I assume you're here for the same reason Alfred's keeping a gun by the door."

"He's very imposing."

"He's protective. Took to Ari like they'd known each other all their lives. He likes kids."

"Where's Ari now?"

"Asleep. Alfred stuffed him with more food and scrubbed him down yesterday, put him to bed, woke him up this morning and repeated the whole process. I think we've just about deloused the poor kid." His face grew grim. "He'd been in Luthor's claws for at least three weeks, the cage for about ten days. The guards threw him scraps when they checked on him, but he hadn't had a real, decent meal since Luthor snatched him."

"Luthor definitely knows him, then?" 

He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know what to do, Clark. I expected Luthor to go to prison -- hell, I expected they wouldn't even take him alive. I can't send Ari away, not again, not knowing what happened the last time. I won't keep him locked up indoors and hidden, he's done enough hiding. But I'm...me. I can't keep him here. Sooner or later there'll be a mention of him or a photograph, Bruce Wayne's little refugee, and he'll lead Luthor straight to me."

"We'll figure something out," I said. "When Alan and Diana get here, we'll figure out a way."

"I'm not used to depending on other people."

"Yeah, I noticed," I said. He glanced at me. "You've been twisting yourself up over this since yesterday morning, huh?"

"More or less," he said ruefully. "I'm a pretty bright guy, but I can't think of any way this ends up well for the boy. All my millions and I can't do a damn thing. As always."

"You do plenty."

"This is personal."

"You're damn right it is," said Diana's voice, as she and Alan burst into the room.

"Princess Diana of Themyscira and Mr. Alan Scott," Alfred said from behind them, a hint of long-suffering patience in his voice. "To see you, Master Bruce."

"Thanks, Alfred. Lock up, nobody else is expected," Bruce called.

"Very good, sir," Alfred said. Diana was already pacing around the room, face stormy.

"I have had it with those -- those _men_ ," she said viciously. "Taking the word of Luthor and some paid cronies over the word of a princess. Do you know what they told me? I went to Metropolis this morning. They said I was a foreigner. I'm the daughter of a goddess!"

"It didn't help when you threatened to hang him by his testicles from the nearest tree," Alan said mildly.

"I could have," Diana retorted. "Tell them."

"She could have," Alan nodded. "Diplomatic immunity and all. I advised against it."

"Wouldn't see me complaining," Bruce said, and then sank into a chair when Alan gave him a look. "Fine. It would have been wrong. Satisfying, but wrong."

"Lois is looking into the DA's office," I said. "If someone got paid there, she'll find it. Metropolis police aren't perfect. There are bad apples, but not many."

"Does she know?" Alan asked. "About...you?"

I nodded. "She knew already, turns out. Not the point. We know Luthor's in deep, now."

"What was he expecting to do with a giant Nazi robot?" Diana asked. "Stomp all over Metropolis?"

"I'm guessing it was a prototype," Bruce said. "Ten of those, deployed strategically, and he could control the whole country. He told the Nazis he'd give them their Reich back. Kuhr said as much."

"It's something, anyway," Alan said. "I'm getting intelligence out of Europe that the ratline's shut down for good. Word's traveling fast about what happened to Kuhr. Nobody's going to touch a shipment going through Gotham or Metropolis."

"They'll just go somewhere else," Bruce muttered.

"Maybe so, but when that happens, we'll go after them again. Our main concern right now is protecting you and Ari from Luthor," Alan said.

"I...I think I might have a solution for that," I said. It had struck me when Alan asked if Lois knew who I was -- it'd been bothering me, really, since she said she'd never seen a difference between me and Superman. "Possibly."

I took the medal off and held it up for them to see. "It's been protecting me for years. I'm willing to bet it can do the same for someone else. No harm in trying, anyway."

"But you need it," Diana said.

"I can wear a mask if I have to, but I don't know that I will. Alan's information says Kryptonians were low-level telepaths. I should be able to work without it." I concentrated on flipping the little switch over from _Clark_ to _Superman_. They all blinked.

"That's really eerie," Diana said.

"So it works?" I asked.

"Please stop now," Alan replied. I focused again, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's still hiding," Bruce said.

"Only to his enemies. Ordinary people will see him for what he really is. Only the bad guys won't," I replied. "Wait a few weeks, introduce him to the world as an orphan that philanthropist Bruce Wayne is adopting -- "

"He looks enough like you," Diana said. "People will think he's your illegitimate son."

"Muddy the waters further," I said.

"This is all great in theory," Bruce replied. "You think the trinket will actually work?"

"Can't hurt to try. If it doesn't, we'll figure something else out." I paused. "My parents have a farm. Nobody'd notice him there. They're used to protecting illegal aliens," I added with a small smile.

"A farm. In Kansas," Bruce said flatly. "You think there are a lot of Jews in Smallville?"

"Well...no," I said. "But it's a nice place to grow up. I should know. I think there's a kosher butcher in Great Bend..."

"Okay, let's try this...thing," Bruce sighed. "I'll have Alfred -- "

He stopped, because the doors were opening again. Ari came through, dressed in pyjamas that looked like they had probably belonged to Bruce as a child, wrapped in a robe that clearly belonged to Bruce now, the tails of it dragging on the floor behind him. He made a sleepy beeline for Bruce, hardly noticing the rest of us.

//I was just coming to get you,// Bruce said, as Ari came to stand next to the arm of his chair. //You remember Herr Kent and Herr Scott and Fraulein Diana, don't you?//

//Yes,// Ari replied. His hair had been cut short and washed, and the dark circles under his eyes were fading. He still looked gaunt, but I was sure Alfred was working on that. //Good morning,// he said to us, then turned back to Bruce. //Should I go get dressed?//

//In a minute. We need to try something first,// Bruce replied. He picked up the chain and draped it around Ari's thin neck.

"How do we know if it works?" Diana asked. "He hasn't got any enemies here."

I glanced at Alan. He lifted his hand, thumb rubbing the ring.

//Hold still,// Bruce said. Ari obediently stood up straight, arms down at his sides, the picture of a soldier at attention. Green light suffused the room.

There was a strange...flicker around the boy, like a film that wasn't quite running at full speed. I could see Ari -- black-haired, gaunt little Ari -- but every so often, under the green light, he would shift. His face filled out, delicate nose lengthening slightly, hair lightening to brown and eyes darkening to hazel. A small birthmark appeared on his cheek.

"Well," I said, as Alan let his hand fall. "That seems to work."

"Will it be enough?" Bruce asked.

"Couldn't you see it?"

"No. He looked like Ari to me," he said, and I thought about Lois, about how she'd never seen anything but me. "I could see you react, though. It does work, doesn't it?"

"I can hear you, you know," Ari said.

There was a long silence.

"I'm starting to regret giving that up," I said finally.

"Too late. Give a kid a present, they raise hell if you try to take it back," Bruce replied, pulling Ari's head down, pressing their foreheads together. "You understand me, Ari?"

"Of course," Ari said.

"Clever, brave little robin," Bruce murmured. "This doesn't get you out of those English lessons we talked about."

"I get to stay?"

"Yes, you get to stay," Bruce said. He leaned back and looked up at me. "I owe you."

"Well, you did give me a car," I replied. Bruce smiled. Diana raised an eyebrow. "Look, I've got people investigating the Luthor thing in Metropolis, and I'll be on it too by tomorrow. Diana can work the other end of the issue through diplomatic channels. Alan can track international response to the ratline closing. You make sure the Gotham end is sealed up, and get Ari settled. We all have our own patrols to make. In the meantime, I need to get home. Lois is having a h -- a heck of a day," I corrected hastily, glancing at Ari. "Is there any other business we need to discuss?"

Diana and Alan shook their heads. Bruce looked thoughtful.

"Not for now," he said. "I'll check in when I have more."

When we left, Ari watched from an upper window of the manor until all three of us were out of sight.

***

Things quieted down after that, though not always in a good way. We couldn't find anything definite to pin to Luthor, but we did our best. More than a few of the men he'd imported died under mysterious circumstances, but Lois and I covered it as thoroughly as we could, enough that Luthor's name was starting to tarnish a little. Dirty pool, perhaps, but not cheating. He was guilty, after all.

A few of the scientists -- the ones who didn't die or go to a war crimes tribunal -- disappeared quietly. Alan told me Operation Paperclip got them. I hoped getting a man on the moon was going to be worth it. I kept tabs on Kuhr, the only one who hadn't been moved (in a prison van or a body bag) out of Metropolis, but he didn't seem to be going anywhere. They had him locked down in a secure hospital wing, trying to get him to do more than giggle loudly or rant about the Batman.

Life went on. The scandal over Louis Lane died quickly enough, even if the other papers all made nasty remarks about women's work. Lois shook it off. We went dancing, went out to dinner, went to a charity fundraiser together with the paper footing the bill so we could battle it out over who got the best interview. Perry got mad when I missed an assignment (to be fair, I was rescuing some hostages in a bank robbery gone wrong while I was supposed to be reporting on a bank-robbery-turned-hostage-situation) and made me cover a society wedding.

A few days after the society wedding disaster, with Lois still teasing me about taking up women's work myself, I foolishly mentioned that I could cook, too, and she offered her kitchen to make me prove it. It wasn't a lie; I learned about the land from Pa, but I learned to look after myself from Ma.

"All right," Lois allowed, curled up on her couch, both of us full from Ma's famous chicken casserole (it won awards at the church cook-offs). "You're a catch, Smallville, you've proven yourself."

"I like to be a thoroughly modern man," I answered, amused. "I'll spare you the Spam in aspic she made while rationing was on."

"Much obliged," she replied, setting her coffee aside. "Getting late."

"I should get home," I said, but before I could move she'd leaned over and kissed me, deep and tempting.

"Or you could stay," she suggested quietly.

"It's not far -- "

"Clark," she said. "You could stay."

I looked at her, the little smile on her lips, her short hair curling around her face.

"I don't..." I started, and then shook my head a little. "You're important, Lois. I don't want to treat you like you aren't."

"I know what I'm asking," she said. "I don't want you to go."

"Your reputation -- "

"Is shot all to hell anyway. I'm not a blushing schoolgirl from Kansas. And I'm not asking some boy off the street to show me a good time. So stuff your misplaced chivalry for a minute and tell me. Would you like to stay?"

I kissed her again. "I don't always get to do as I please."

"All the more reason you should now. If the war taught me anything, it's that you have to take what you want as soon as you can get it, because tomorrow might not come. I think you learned it too. And you're in a war of your own, Clark, don't think I don't know that. I want everything, now, here, tonight. Don't you?"

"Lois -- "

"Don't you?"

"Yes," I admitted, muffling it in the pale skin of her throat. "I do."

"Then stay," she said, and tugged on my hand, leading me towards the bedroom.

***

I woke up the next morning to Lois smiling at me across the rose-patterned sheets on her bed. The room was gold-lit through the yellow curtains on the window, sun only just rising, and I'd never seen anything so breathtaking. We watched each other for a minute before she shifted, curling closer to me, and I pulled her up warmly against my side.

"Morning," she said. "Sleep well?"

"Dunno. Someone kept me up," I answered, and she laughed. "I should get up, though. Go home and get a fresh suit."

"It's Sunday," she complained. "Are you honestly getting up to go to church?"

"No, I'm a godless cosmopolitan now," I said, but I felt a little guilty saying it.

"You were going to, weren't you," she replied.

"I can skip it. But I thought I'd go to the office this afternoon, square away some old work. For that, I need a suit."

"I have suits."

"Somehow, I don't think they'll fit," I answered, kissing her shoulder.

"I'd be mortified if they did. Stay," she insisted, tugging on my shoulder. "You can be home and back in ten minutes."

"Five, if I don't dawdle."

"So stay." She pressed a hand against my chest, just under my throat. It pinned me more effectively than anything else possibly could. She traced her fingers there, curious. "Didn't you used to wear a saint's medal?"

"I'm a Methodist. We don't have saints. We have potlucks."

"I'm sure you used to wear something. I remember wondering what it was."

"Just an old thing I had from when I was a kid. Friend of mine needed it more than I did."

"Hm." She lifted her head, looking at the clock over my shoulder. "We really should get up."

"You make the coffee. I'll get changed and bring breakfast back," I said.

"This is how you farm boys do it, isn't it? Feed her till she's yours forever?"

"Either that or grow her a truckload of soy beans."

"All right. Up," she said, sitting up. "Go milk the cows or something."

It didn't take long to wash and change, given what I was flying back to when I was done. Took slightly longer to get some breakfast, but I got a couple of papers in the process, and when I came back into Lois's apartment (I use more windows than anyone I know, except maybe Bruce) she was still in the shower. I set out the food, poured two mugs of coffee, and settled in at the kitchen counter, opening the Gotham paper. Bruce hadn't been in the papers once since Ari arrived. I wasn't sure if he was slipping, or just building up a new reformed personality.

Then I got to the society page, and I was torn between delight and annoyance. 

There was a photograph of Bruce, standing outside a synagogue in Gotham, Ari at his side, both in expensive-looking suits and dark yarmulkes. Ari looked like he'd gained weight, and he was beaming up at Bruce. The unfortunate headline read BRUCIE IN A BEANIE.

I reached for Lois's phone and put in a collect call.

"Wayne residence," Alfred answered.

"Alfred, it's Clark Kent -- we met a few weeks ago -- sorry to reverse charges, but I'm not at my desk."

"Master Bruce has been expecting your call. One moment."

There was a click, then a pause; a second click, and Bruce's voice came on the line.

"Clark?"

"You have some top notch reporters in Gotham," I said. " _Brucie in a Beanie_ , really?"

"That's the least of my worries this morning. Turn the page."

I looked down at the paper, then obediently turned it over. Crime report on one side, editorials and the crossword puzzle on the other.

"Second column, left-hand page," Bruce said.

**DARING DAYLIGHT ESCAPE DURING PRISONER TRANSFER**  
 _Disfigured German war criminal Josef Kuhr disappears from van transporting him to Washington, DC for trial during Gotham stopover; Gotham police vow to nab the Nazi._

"Bruce," I said, "you can't seem to win for losing."

"At least he won't be hard to catch," Bruce said. "I mean, he can't exactly go out in public with a face like his and not get noticed."

"Plus he's crazier than a sack of snakes."

"That too, and what a charming colloquialism. Smallville in origin?"

"You can take the boy off the farm..." I smiled. "Are you okay? You need the League?"

"No, I'll handle it. Diana already called, I told her it was fine. Gotham's good at hiding evil, but not that good. I'm going to enjoy this," he said with grim satisfaction. "I'm going to hunt him down and walk him into the courthouse myself, if I have to, and if they let me I'll put the damn rope around his neck."

"I wouldn't blame you."

"Good," he said. "I do need to talk to you at some point, though. I thought I'd take Ari down to Metropolis this week. I'll call when we arrive."

"Sounds good -- I have to go," I said, as I heard the water shut off in Lois's shower. "Tell Ari I say hi."

"He'll be pleased. Ciao," he added, in his dumbest, flightiest Bruce Wayne voice, and I laughed as I hung up the phone.

***

Bruce called me the following Thursday evening, giving me the number of his suite at the Metropolis Grand. Lois caught the end of the conversation -- "Be there in half an hour" -- and raised an eyebrow.

"Secret assignation?" she asked, leaning on my desk. Below, where nobody could see, I rested a hand on her knee.

"Nobody who could compare," I replied. "It's uniform business."

"Ah. You know, sometimes I miss the days when you'd stammer and get flustered because you couldn't tell me where you were going," she said with a grin.

"I don't."

"Well, I'll just have to take my other boyfriend out on the town," she said.

"Other boyfriend?"

"Bruce Wayne's in Metropolis. He asked me to drinks later tonight."

"Busy Brucie," I said.

"I would have made some excuse, but I want the story on that kid he's supposedly adopted."

"That's perilously close to the society column," I teased.

"Don't remind me. So, this uniform business. Anything Lois Lane, Intrepid Girl Reporter, should be in on?"

"I'll let you know. Try not to be Wayne's latest scandal."

"Do my best. See you tomorrow," she said, and kissed my cheek. Jimmy wolf-whistled.

"Nuts," I told him, and casually wiped lipstick off my cheek as I put on my hat.

***

Apparently Bruce had brought the whole establishment to Metropolis with him; when I got to the suite, Alfred let me in and took my coat and hat, then showed me into a large reception room where Bruce was sitting near a window, reading.

"Clark, good to see you. Have a seat," he said, setting the book aside. "Metropolis is as...sunny as ever."

"We enjoy it," I answered. "Where's Ari?"

"On the roof, shooting pigeons with a slingshot."

"Is that wise?" I asked. "Letting him roam around alone?"

"That's the point of the medal, isn't it? I try to give him as much freedom as I can. Besides, it's pretty difficult to get onto the roof of the Metropolis Grand."

"How is he?"

"Better than he was. He's strong, resilient. But Ari's not why I wanted to talk to you," he added, lacing his hands over his stomach, studying me. "The robot Luthor built."

"What about it?"

"I have a theory about its power source. A machine that big would take far more power than most conventional means could supply. Just building it would suck electricity from the Metropolis grid. I think he was using _un_ conventional means."

"The rock," I said. "The green rock that went right through me when it blew."

"It didn't sit well with me. I've seen you shake off a missile, but a little debris put you out?" he shook his head. "I looked into it."

"I'm not enjoying the sound of this," I said.

"I didn't imagine you would, but you need to know. Wayne International supervised the cleanup of the hangar disaster. I think I've collected nearly all of the rock, but given Luthor's ability to plan, I suspect he has other caches," Bruce said, picking up a small box that was sitting on a decorative table nearby. "It's not an element known on Earth."

He opened the box, and immediately the air grew heavy the way it had in the hangar; my ears roared, and it was hard to breathe. He snapped it shut again almost instantly.

"What is that?" I gasped.

"You told me that you didn't have these powers when you were a child," Bruce said. "It wasn't until you spent an extended period of time away from Smallville that you developed them. I sent a survey team to Kansas and they called in last week; the same ore is found in many of the farm fields outside Smallville, including trace amounts at the Kent farm. Don't worry; they were discreet," he added, as I glared at him. "The meteor shower the night you fell to Earth, your celestial escort -- that was pieces of your home planet. I'd have to do more tests, which I don't think you'd like. But I have a theory that this," he shook the box, "inhibits your abilities. The box is lined in lead. The one metal you can't see through."

"Are you telling me Lex Luthor went to Smallville and...what, mined the farms?"

"Ten years after Kansas got its meteor shower, there was a meteor strike in Siberia. Norilsk, north of Tunguska. Tunguska got one in 1908. I think all three are related. I think there were multiple small strikes for about thirty years. Those were just the three major ones."

I felt sick. "Strikes. Debris from my planet."

"Yes. Primarily in Siberia and the American midwest -- big land masses with scattered populations. Fortunate, in its own way; if the meteor that hit Tunguska had hit Gotham...no more Gotham."

"Sorry if I'm failing to see the silver lining," I said.

"There isn't one, not really. The OSS knew that Luthor spent some time in Siberia during the war. I think he found this ore -- this Kryptonite, if you want to call it that -- and realized it could be used as a power source."

"Why wouldn't he just sell it?"

"It's highly unstable. The stuff we found at the hangar had to have been refined very carefully. And I think he wanted to keep it for himself. Who controls energy, controls the world," he said. "Wayne International has some pretty heavy energy investments, so I know what I'm talking about."

I considered what this might mean. Peppered across two continents were chunks of ore that could incapacitate Superman. Not heartening.

"Everything Wayne International recovered has been safely buried," Bruce continued. "I kept this sample out to show you what it can do."

"You think Luthor has more?"

"I do. There's no real solution to it, other than to make sure you're well-prepared if you go against him again. Take this, if you want it," he added, pushing the box across to me. "Have someone you trust run tests on it."

"I trust you."

He looked at me, startled, but before he could answer, the door burst open and Ari came through it at top speed. He stopped when he saw me, then smiled and opened his mouth to speak.

"Ah," Bruce said, and Ari took off the medal I'd given him, slipping it into his pocket. "English, please."

"Good afternoon Mr. Kent," Ari said, haltingly. "Pleasure to see you again."

"I don't want him depending on the necklace for his English," Bruce said. "All right, back on for now."

Ari put the medal back on and approached shyly. "You have a lovely city, Superman."

"He's nuts about Superman," Bruce said, sounding bored. "He wants a red cape. Do you know how useless red capes are?"

"What do you want a red cape for?" I asked.

"Fighting!" Ari said. 

"Are you taking him out with you?" I asked Bruce, shocked.

"Not yet," Ari replied, sounding disappointed.

"We're discussing it," Bruce answered. I looked back at Ari again. He did look miles happier -- more like a boy, less like a wounded animal -- but there was a darkness in his eyes that I recognized. You could see the same darkness in Bruce's. A hard shadow born of suffering that would never fully heal.

"Why do you want to fight?" I asked Ari. He glanced at Bruce, who nodded.

"Bruce says we can't be afraid," he said slowly. "And we have to have hope. Fighting gives us hope. Fighting makes him happier. I want to be happier," he added, and cocked his head at me. "Why do you fight?"

"I had a calling," I said.

"How old were you?"

"Twenty-two."

"Am I too young to have a calling?"

"He's good," I said to Bruce. "No," I replied, turning back to Ari. "I don't suppose you are."

"Run along and wash before dinner," Bruce said. "Mr. Kent and I have grownup things to discuss."

"Aw!"

"Go," Bruce said, shooing him. Ari went, dragging his feet. When the door closed, he said, "Please don't -- "

"Are you seriously going to take a child into combat?" I asked.

"Do you honestly think I could stop him? He's been in real combat in the war, and he's even more stubborn than I am. He's too young now for street fighting, but he wants to train with me -- what am I supposed to do? At least if I'm teaching him I know when he does inevitably go out there, he'll be strong. Unafraid. And he'll be with me."

I cast a skeptical look at the door. "He's still eleven."

"And I told him I won't take him out until he's fourteen. Maybe by then he'll..." he shook his head. "Maybe he'll have healed the way I couldn't. Three years is an eternity for a child."

"You can't fight the calling, I guess," I said.

"No." He tapped his fingers on the lead box. "No, you can't. Anyway, take this. Wayne International has a mandate out to all our survey and construction teams to report in if they've found Kryptonite. I can't get past the Soviets -- and yes, to answer your question belatedly, the KGB very much wants my head if I ever go near Asia again -- but I'll do what I can for the rest."

"Thank you."

"Told you. I owe you."

"Told you, you gave me a car."

"How's it running, by the way?" he asked, smiling.

"Like a dream, thanks." I stood, carefully tucking the box in my pocket. "Let me know if you get a bead on Kuhr. I'll give Batman the best press of his life in return for an exclusive."

"I'll hold you to that," he replied, walking me to the door. "Look after yourself, Clark."

"You too, Bruce."

When I got home, I pried open my old mess kit, laying the lead box carefully on top of the paperwork Alan had given me. I sealed it up again, set it on the highest shelf in the kitchen, and shoved a truly ugly gravy boat Ma had sent me in front of it.

I was just brushing my teeth when there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, Lois looked at me -- toothbrush in my mouth, plaid pajamas on -- and grinned.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"No," I said, hastily taking the toothbrush out of my mouth. "Nothing at all. How was the Wayne meetup?"

"Productive. Got some good quotes, I'll file it tomorrow. He seems to be settling down a little. I thought I'd see if you wanted late company."

"Always," I replied. It's hard to be suave with a mouthful of toothpaste. "Make yourself at home, I'm going to..." I pointed to the toothbrush.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was wearing one of my pajama shirts, sitting on the bed. I crawled over to her, kissed her, and rested my forehead against hers.

"Uniform business go off okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, it went fine," I replied. "Nothing newsworthy."

"You sound happy about it."

"I'm happy you're here," I said. "I'm -- I like my life an awful lot. I'm lucky and I'm grateful for it tonight."

"Good," she answered, fingers toying with the top button of my shirt. "Now, how about we make a little scandal?"

I laughed and followed her down into the blankets.


	6. Epilogue

Central City was located a few hours southwest of Chicago, on the Illinois-Missouri border, and perhaps arrogantly billed itself as "The Last Culture Until San Francisco". Being smaller than Chicago and more distant from anything interesting, it had a lot to prove. There was no reason for any of the Justice League to be there, let alone two of us, except for the 1952 World's Fair, which Central City was hosting.

Lois and I were covering it as a working honeymoon, reporting on the exhibits. I'd seen Bruce in the World Of The Future pavilion, promoting his new Electronic System Integrated Computer -- ESIC could play music, answer simple questions, do complex equations, and fit into a coat closet, and IBM was chewing their hats trying to figure out how he'd done it -- but I hadn't been able to speak to him. There would be time; Lois and I had ten days at the Fair, and sooner or later I'd catch up with Bruce.

It was day three, hot and dry, and Lois and I were considering giving up on reporting to spend the day sitting on the shady portico of an ice-cream shop watching the world pass, when there was an explosion from the direction of the World Gone Wild zoological exhibit.

We looked at each other.

"You go, I'll get the story," she said, and I took off like a shot. I'd been practicing changing midair, which doesn't show any skin when you're going as fast as I can, but does require a certain lack of modesty regardless. By the time I reached the explosion, most of the fairgoers had scattered. The animals were screaming in their pens or stampeding out of them, and one of the tents was on fire.

The zoological exhibit stood in the shadow of the fairway, with its high Ferris wheel and precarious thrill rides. I looked around, trying to figure out what had caused the explosion or where it had gone, but there didn't seem to be any particularly villainous figures around. I was blowing out the fire when Bruce arrived in full getup, darting through the animals that had gotten loose.

"You brought your uniform?" I called down.

"You're one to talk!" he called back.

"Point," I said. "On your ten, look sharp."

"I thought herding was your job," he replied, wrestling a smallish yak to the ground and securing it with rope from a collapsed tent. A Spanish bull charged him and he jumped deftly onto its back, flipping off to land behind it.

"Do you good, city boy," I replied, catching the bull one-handed and using the rope he tossed me to tie it to a metal tent stake. It snorted, looked me in the eye, and decided it had better things to do than attack me, like eating some tasty-looking grass. "Where's Robin?"

"Looking after Gotham," he replied, pulling part of the scorched tent down on a zebra. He caught my gaze. "Diana's with him, don't look at me like that."

"You didn't let him come? It's a fair."

"He's coming out next week," Bruce protested.

"Well, good. Hey, I saw ESIC, I'm very impressed," I said, as a whole cadre of monkeys chittered at us from a tree.

"Thank you. What the hell caused this?" he asked. "I was ready for a lot more than -- "

He broke off as something red zoomed past us, so fast it was nothing more than a blur. He looked the way it had gone, then looked back at me.

"Cheetah?" I suggested.

"Over there," he said, turning again. The blur was leaving a trail of dust though the exhibit, heading straight for the Ferris wheel. I could see something dark, climbing the struts --

"Gorilla," we said in unison. I dropped low enough for him to get an arm around my neck, then made for the Ferris wheel as fast as possible. It had begun to sway; the red blur we'd seen earlier was circling it. Almost -- yes, it was a man, I could see when he stopped occasionally. He was climbing the wheel too quickly to see, pulling people off and depositing them safely on the ground.

A bullet zipped through the air, bouncing off my head.

"Oh. That's a gorilla with a gun," Bruce said in my ear.

"Makes you long for Nazi robots, huh?"

"Not even a little bit," he replied, firing at the wheel. His grappling gun caught and he climbed up my back, jumping off my shoulders. I tried to draw the gorilla's fire. The ape had reached the top of the wheel, more or less, and was slinging something off its back; the next time the red blur circled the wheel, he stuck out a meaty, hairy arm and the man collided with it, tumbling through the wires and struts. Bruce jumped, swung, and caught him, lowering him to the ground before he started to climb again. I was still dodging the occasional bullet, trying to get closer.

"Okay," I heard the man in red yell from the foot of the wheel. "Who gave the monkey a grenade launcher?"

Which was about when the grenade hit me in the chest. I caught it on the rebound and threw it as high as I could. It exploded like a fireworks show.

"I AM NOT," a voice roared, "A MONKEY!"

"Talking ape, this just gets better," Bruce growled, still working his way up. The gorilla fired directly at him, and the man in red -- the blur in red, really -- was up and swatting it away before it could hit them. Bruce dodged, swung around a spur of metal, and shook his head.

"Hit him up top," he yelled. "Red and I'll get him on the ground."

"I AM GRODD!" the gorilla yelled. "I HAVE COME TO FREE MY PRIMATE BRETHREN!"

"Great," I yelled back, and slammed into him at full speed.

We went down together, tumbling through the air, him struggling as I tried to pin down his wrists. He kicked and bit and had really bad breath.

A cloud of dust kicked up when we landed. Before I could roll and pin him, his ankles were tied. Bruce was strapping his wrists together, avoiding his snapping teeth, and then the man in red was there, arms around the gorilla's throat from behind, holding his jaw shut with visible, straining effort. When we finally had him tied -- he snapped Bruce's line twice before Bruce bound him at the elbow to keep him still -- the man in red vanished.

"You will rue the day you tangled with Grodd!" the gorilla snarled. "The apes will come to my aid!"

"Doesn't look like it," Bruce said, straightening and dusting off his uniform. Grodd continued to rant as Bruce reached into a car of the Ferris wheel, pulling a leather safety-strap off with a grunt. He tossed it to me and I wrapped it around Grodd's head, effectively gagging him.

"Get out of here," I said, jerking my head at the rear entrance to the midway. "I'll handle this."

"Like hell you will. You go subdue the bison, I'll handle this," he replied.

"Fine. Just remember, Lois is going to be reporting on it, and it would be nice if my wife didn't hate you," I replied.

"I make no promises," he said, but he grinned.

About half of the animals -- mostly the smaller ones -- had already been penned or tied up by the time I got there. The zookeepers were staring at the place in dismay. I helped them shoo the monkeys out of the tree, got an antelope unstuck from a fence, shoved a very recalcitrant rhino out of the hippos' wallowing pool, and rescued what I was told was a civet from the clutches of a grizzly bear. I didn't blame our blurry red friend for not going near the bear.

When the situation seemed to be mostly under control, I looked around for Bruce (already fled) and Lois (on a payphone in the Communications building, filing her story) and then our speedy red friend. I finally found him standing on the roof of the tall, Greek-columned Tribute To Ancient History building nearby. Behind him, I could see a shadow flitting around the decorative statues that littered the roof.

He caught sight of me when I was halfway up, but he didn't move until I'd touched down.

"Well," he said. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"What gave it away?" I asked, offering my hand. "Superman. Didn't mean to tread on any toes."

"You didn't. It's an honor, sir," he replied. His handshake was firm, though it almost felt like his skin itself was vibrating. "Thanks for stepping in."

"Happy to help. That was good work. You're local?"

"Local and new. Around here they're calling me the Flash," he replied. "Good a name as any, huh?"

"Speed's your thing?"

"Mostly. Long story -- well, not long, just not very interesting. So, talking gorilla. That's got to be the work of a mad scientist, right? Or you think he's just a gorilla-shaped alien?"

"My money's on mad science," a voice said. Flash startled, looking around so fast I hardly saw it; I just smiled.

"Batman, stop lurking," I called. "Come meet the Flash."

Bruce stepped out from behind a statue of Apollo. Flash yelped and danced backwards. 

"He does that," I said. "Be nice, Batman."

"Why?" Bruce asked.

"We're guests," I replied.

"We're paying fairgoers," he replied. I saw him studying Flash -- the red single-piece suit with a cheerful yellow lightning bolt on his chest and yellow art-deco wings on his cowl, the red leather boots with no visible laces, the blue eyes under his mask and the wary set of his mouth. Finally Bruce nodded at the uniform, which was skin-tight pretty nearly everywhere. "Not particularly shy, are you?"

"Hey, this is top of the line," Flash said, gesturing to the suit. "Low friction, low wind resistance. First time I tried out this power I set a pair of pants on fire. This is an improvement." 

"Polymer?" Bruce asked, and I could see him putting his attitude aside in the face of an interesting chemistry question.

"Natural textile," Flash replied, looking equally interested now. "Haven't got the technology to work on a molecular level yet, but that's where I'd have to go with polymers to get better than this."

"You're a chemist?"

"I dabble. The suit was designed by a friend. He's been working with soy silk. So what are you using?" Flash asked, and before I could warn him, he'd poked Batman in the head curiously. "Just leather?"

"Specially treated for durability," Bruce replied, _without_ eviscerating him, which I was kind of expecting. "I was experimenting with armor, but none of it's light enough."

"I could probably improve on that if you let me know what you're looking for," Flash said.

"It's a different set of needs than yours."

"That's all right, I like puzzles." 

I don't think either of them noticed when I slipped away to find Lois and give her an exclusive comment from Superman.

***

The next time I saw Flash was about six weeks later, and he was in Gotham. Normally the League met at Bruce's place, because it was easier for us to go to him than for him to come to DC or Metropolis, and the Manor was secluded and private. When he got in touch to set up a meet on a rooftop near Arkham Asylum, I figured we might be having company.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, landing next to the huddle of heroes. "Stopped on the way to help a family with a flat tire."

"Superman does tires now?" Diana asked, teasing.

"Boy, were they surprised," I replied. "Flash. Good to see you again. I assume Batman's been introducing you."

"Likewise," Flash said, beaming brightly. "It's pretty neat. Every time I come here I see something new. Till a few months ago I'd never even been to Gotham. Well, through it on the way to somewhere else, but I didn't have much time to stop -- "

"What's your average travel time to get to the coast from Central City?" Lantern asked, cutting off what sounded like it could become a monologue.

"Never really timed it. Five, six minutes maybe? Ten at an easy lope." He cast a sidelong glance at me. "But I imagine in the future I'd be hustling it a little."

"He's the reason we're meeting?" I asked Batman.

"I have a proposal to make," Batman replied. "Robin!"

"Yes, sir!" a voice called from above.

"League meeting. Come down."

"Yes, sir," Robin sighed, swinging across from a gargoyle on another building.

"He's going through an overly stealthy phase," Batman said with a parental roll of his eyes. Ari landed lightly, dark red cape tucked around his shoulders, and gave us a professional nod. Five years had put muscle and height on him; he was as tall as Batman now, a rangy sixteen-year-old with all the drama that being sixteen entailed, even being sixteen and a superhero. He'd given me back my medal a few months ago, when he and Bruce decided he was probably old enough that Luthor wouldn't link him to the boy he'd kept in a cage years before.

"I like the new uniform," I said. He looked down at his dark green suit, a pleased smile crossing his face under the maroon domino mask. In reality I thought he looked a little like a Christmas tree, but Bruce had told me it was a work in progress. "So, now that we're all here..."

"I've been speaking to Flash since our encounter in Central City," Batman said. "I think he could be a benefit to the League."

"We don't particularly have anything in place for admitting new members," Alan said.

"That was always a goal, though," I pointed out. "Structure, stability. Perhaps it's time we added that chapter to the rulebook."

"There's a rulebook?" Flash asked, voice a little strangled.

"Metaphorical," Lantern said. "There won't be a test."

"Oh. Phew," Flash exhaled, glancing at Batman. "Yeah, so -- the thing is, we don't really get your caliber of evil out in Illinois. I can mostly handle Central City myself. But uh, I'd like to learn with the League, and I figure I can offer to help out here on the coast. I can get here fast, faster than you can get to me anyway, but I'm not...much of a fighter, really. Batman's been giving me lessons, but I'm nowhere near his level yet. Don't think I'll ever hit yours," he added to me.

"It's not that common," I agreed.

"I'm really good at rescue, though, and it's be an honor to serve with all of you. So in the end it's a net gain, you know, I'd be helping you and learning and you wouldn't have to do much -- oh, I uh -- I forgot part of the speech -- "

"Flash," Batman said quietly. "Breathe."

"Right. Sorry, I'm nervous," he said. "I also work with the police, is what I meant to put in there somewhere, I'm in forensics, so I can help with the detective end. Not that you need it! But I could, if you did. So."

Lantern looked like he was trying not to laugh. Robin had his lip caught in his teeth. Diana smiled.

"I'd like to join if you want me," Flash finished.

"Private ballot?" I suggested.

"I don't think we need that much," Lantern replied. "Batman's vouching for him. General call for objections?"

We all exchanged looks. Robin shifted nervously. We hadn't done this when he'd joined, not that it had ever been that official. When he turned fourteen he'd just started showing up at Batman's side, and none of us had minded or bothered to question it.

"If there are no objections, I say he's in," Lantern said finally.

"Not an objection," I said, and everyone looked at me. "Just a point of order. I think -- we all know each other, in terms of who we are when we aren't the League. I think maybe that should be a rule. We have to trust each other. So if he's in, we have to know who he is. And he should know who we are, fair's fair." I looked at Flash. "Agreed?"

"Oh," he said quietly. "I don't -- I mean, I don't mind, but you don't have to, you barely know me -- "

"He knows who I am," Batman said. "He's met Robin out of uniform."

"Seriously?" Diana asked. Bruce revealing himself was one thing; revealing Ari, who he protected from the public as much as possible, was another.

"I vetted him," he said. He looked around at our surprised faces. "What?" he asked, annoyed. "Superman said it. We have to trust each other."

He pulled his cowl back. Ari, behind him, peeled his mask off. Lantern glanced at me, then let his own mask fade. Diana never had hid anything, but she gave Flash a reassuring smile. I concentrated for a moment, letting Superman slip away.

Flash tugged his cowl back from his face, letting it hang behind him. He had shaggy blond hair and a striking profile. He looked about my age, maybe a little younger. His face was friendly and open, marked with what looked like a burn scar, small and high up on one cheek. 

"My name's Bartholomew Allen," he said. "Barry. Or Bart, I answer to both."

"Alan Scott," Lantern said. "Central Intelligence Agency. Glad to know you."

"Diana, princess of Themyscira. Not that _I_ ever have to tell anyone," she said teasingly.

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet," I added.

"Clark Ke -- like Lane and Kent?" he asked. "The reporters?"

"Another one for your fan club," Diana told me, then turned back to him. "If I can ask, Bart, how did you come by your abilities?"

"Oh, I -- " He gestured to the scar. "Freak accident. Lightning electrified some chemicals in a storage shelf behind me. They exploded. Lucky I survived, really. When I woke up, I was...fast."

He looked around at us, examining every bare face, even Bruce's and Ari's. I noticed a silent communication that passed between him and Bruce, the way Bart's eyes lingered on his face, and something clicked. My head snapped around to look at Bruce, and he shook his slightly -- _not now._

"Welcome to the League," Alan said.

"Thank you," Bart answered, and I could see the sincerity under the anxiety. "I promise I'll be a credit to it."

"You'll fix him up with an alarm-box?" Lantern asked. Bruce nodded. "Then I think we're done for tonight, unless anyone has other business."

Bruce was already pulling up his cowl, and Ari had plastered the mask back on his face. Bart pulled his hood up too, watching awestruck as Diana and Lantern lifted off, heading for home.

"Robin, take Flash back to the mansion," Batman said. "Superman looks like he needs a few words."

"Race you," Flash challenged, and took off, running...straight down the side of the building.

"Not fair!" Robin exclaimed, leaping off the edge and throwing a grappling dart into the opposite building. Bruce watched indulgently as the boy tried to catch up. When they were gone, he glanced at me.

"Might as well out with it," he said.

"You and he...?"

"It's personal."

"You could have told me, Bruce."

"It's _personal._ "

I nodded. "Not the same as uniform business, I get it."

"Do you?"

"Regardless of anything else, we have each other's back, and that doesn't change. I might be from farm country but I've been around the block more than once. Enough to know better than to leave a pal to twist over who he...spends his time with."

"Well, that's gracious of you."

"All right, that sounded wrong. Point is I don't care, and I wouldn't have if you'd told me, but I understand why you didn't." I paused. "It's dangerous, Bruce. You know that."

"Not more dangerous than anything else I do."

"Different danger. It's a different kind of illegal. If anyone found out -- they'd arrest you. Take Ari from you."

"No one's going to find out. And if they do -- " he shook his head. "There are benefits to being wealthy. I can buy myself out if I need to."

"Can you? Can you be sure Gotham wouldn't make an example out of you?"

"I thought I was the one who always borrowed trouble," he said, but he sounded tense, like he was barely containing his anger.

"Bruce -- "

"Would you give Lois up?"

"What?"

"If it were illegal. If you were endangering her -- which, by the way, you sometimes do -- would you give her up?"

I had a moment where my perspective seemed to shift radically; he always did know how to turn things around on me, give me a new view of whatever we were arguing about.

"It's that serious?" I asked, because I couldn't think of what else to say.

"It could be." Bruce was silent for a while. "He's been visiting Gotham. Training with us. Nobody outside the League has ever been as good with the kid as Bart. It's -- well. I...knew. When I saw how he treated Robin. Before I even knew who he was."

"So," I said. "Love at first sight?"

Bruce groaned. "Hardly. He puts too much trust in his speed to protect him. He gets distracted. He...blithers. And eats like nobody I have ever seen. He's a smart-aleck when he should be a professional. He wears that incredibly loud cherry-red uniform -- he won't even consider something more sensible like black -- "

"And he makes you happy."

Bruce glanced at me. "He understands this life. He treats Ari well. He likes me, Christ knows why."

"He'll be a good addition to the League," I offered.

"I think so."

"Plenty of people like you, Bruce," I added. "Maybe not quite the way he does, but you're our friend. The best friend I have. I'm glad for you. Worried, but glad."

"Thank you. Hey, is the heart-to-heart over now?" he asked, but there was humor in his eyes, the anger subsiding.

"Sure. See you next time the world needs saving."

"Keep safe."

"Likewise," I said, and lifted off. By the time I looked back, he'd disappeared into the shadows again.

I hoped he was going home.


End file.
